


The Silver Spy

by ArtemisRose727



Category: Turn (TV 2014)
Genre: Adventure & Romance, Childhood Friends, Culper Ring, F/M, FANS OF BEN TALLMADGE, FANS OF JOHN ANDRE, Some Fluff, a love story for Ben, but there is still a plot I promise
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-20
Updated: 2018-06-08
Packaged: 2018-10-21 04:21:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 37,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10677582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArtemisRose727/pseuds/ArtemisRose727
Summary: The untold story of the Culper Ring's fifth member...Twenty-one year old Cecily Dartmore is the daughter of a prominent British Lord and lives in the high society of New York City. The only problem: her patriot heart. She had contented herself to only ever being able to give silent support to the American cause, lest her deadly secret be discovered by her Tory associates and end in her own hanging. But then, an opportunity arose for her to help her American comrades when a certain British Major and Head of British Intelligence came to stay in her father's house. Now, Cecily must use her social status and her wit to keep her true allegiance unknown while gathering intelligence for Washington. Of course, doing so is not only dangerous, but also required her to reconnect with old friends...and one friend in particular might reawaken an old desire...this is the story of the most unlikely patriot surviving and spying in the heart of enemy territory.





	1. Praeparabit Viam

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own anything pertaining to TURN: Washington’s Spies. This is purely a fanfiction written for fun.
> 
> Author’s Note: Hey everyone! Artemis Rose here. I hope you enjoy this fanfic written by myself and my friend, Robin Goodly. We felt that our beloved Benjamin Tallmadge needed a love interest, since this is something he is denied throughout the series. I look forward to hearing what everyone thinks, especially as this is my first fanfiction.

March, 1777, New York City 

“Cecily, are you quite alright? You’ve hardly touched your supper.”  
Cecily Dartmore looked up from her plate where she had been pushing the bits of haggis and potatoes around with her fork and met her father’s eyes from across the table. He was thoughtfully observing her from over the rim of his wineglass, the dark liquid swirling around as he helped to aerate it.  
She sat up a bit straighter and tried not to squirm under his piercing blue gaze. “Yes, I am fine, Father. My apologies if my daydreaming was coming across as rude. I was…merely lost in thought.”  
Lord Dartmore chuckled from his place at the head of the table. “Well, my dear, you have my forgiveness but I cannot speak for our guest.” He turned to his right, to the only other man seated at the table, and raised his glass towards him, gesturing for a response. “Could you forgive this thoughtless behavior, John?”  
Their guest, Major John Andre, gave a ridiculously charming smile and turned his smoldering blue-gray eyes on Cecily. “Well, Robert,” he replied, addressing her father by his Christian name. The two men’s familiarity with each other was still slightly unnerving to Cecily. It wasn’t as if they had known the Major for a very long time. It had barely been a year, as Andre had only come to New York that past winter, but the two men were already sharing a comfortable familiarity with each other.  
“It appears to me,” the Major continued. “That it is not thoughtless but rather thoughtful behavior under discussion. That being said, I would be more than willing to offer my forgiveness if your lovely daughter would indulge me in the topic of her daydream.”  
Cecily felt her cheeks flush. “My dear Major…I shouldn’t like to bore you with what I am sure would be construed as a dreadfully dull daydream.”  
Andre’s eyes twinkled with amusement. “Humor me?”  
“Come now, Cecily. The major has made a very simple request. It would do no harm to abide by it.” Her father said.  
“Well…” Cecily started, feeling trapped. She certainly wasn’t going to tell them what she had truly been thinking about, for that would end in her own hanging…no, she would have to come up with something else to appease the two men. Something convincing…  
“I was merely thinking about the war.” She blurted out, deciding on a half-truth. Her father frowned, but Andre chuckled. “Does that thought amuse you, Major?” she inquired with a raised eyebrow, taking offense. “At least enough to mandate mockery of me?”  
Andre cleared his throat. “My apologies. I wasn’t laughing at you nor was it my intent to offend you in any way. It’s just I wasn’t quite expecting that response. At least not…” he trailed off, looking suddenly unsure of himself.  
“At least not from a lady?” Cecily prompted, smirking slightly.  
To her utter delight the Major looked even more flustered than before. Cecily took advantage. “Are you suggesting that a high standing lady such as myself shouldn’t have a concern about the affairs of her country?”  
Andre opened his mouth, “I-”  
Lord Dartmore burst out laughing. It was a deep, rich sound, and eased the tension between Cecily and Andre. The two of them relaxed back slightly into their seats as Lord Dartmore said, “Oh relax, John. My daughter is merely reveling in your discomfort. She gets that from her mother I’m afraid. Mischief seekers, the both.”  
Andre smiled and raised his glass in Cecily’s directions. “My compliments, Miss Dartmore. There are not many who can render me speechless.”  
“Your humble nature speaks legions, Major.”  
Lord Dartmore made a spluttering noise into his wine and proceeded to break into a mild coughing fit. “That will do, Cecily!” he managed in between coughs. “The good Major does not deserve such an insult, least of all from you.”  
“No, that’s quite alright, Robert.” Andre interjected. “I rather admire a woman with a sharp wit.”  
“I assure you, sir, there is much more where that came from.” Cecily told him evenly.  
“I shall hold you to that Miss Dartmore.” Andre replied, a slight smile gracing his elegant lips. “I need some sort of domestic aspect to keep me on my toes during this wretched war which of course…brings us back to the starting topic. Why, I wonder, would a very capable young lady like yourself be pondering over the it?”  
Oh, dear Lord, Cecily thought to herself. Anything but that. She had done what she could to steer the conversation away from that particular topic, but it seemed to have rolled right back to it.  
In order to get herself out of this unscathed, Cecily played the one card she knew wouldn’t raise suspicion: the scared and meek woman.  
“I’m afraid,” she said, lowering her eyes to the table cloth, as if ashamed of her admission.  
Lord Dartmore furrowed his brows. “Of what, my dear?”  
Of being caught, Cecily thought. Aloud she said, “Of this terrible war. I hear the battles getting closer and closer each day and I fear that one day they will reach us. I just wish these rebels will stop. Surely they know it is a futile attempt to go up in arms against England, Major Andre?” Cecily batted her eyelashes for additional effect.  
The Major smiled. “I do not think you need to fear the rebels, Miss Dartmore. The chances of their armies reaching you here are extremely slim. However, in answer to your other question, although we may know their attempts to be futile, as you put it, they believe their plight to be a legitimate and worthy cause.”  
“But surely a thing’s worth is purely subjective.” Cecily blurted before she could stop herself. A bolt of panic shot through her at the rashness of her words. Why couldn’t she ever hold her tongue?  
Because you can’t stop a firecracker once the fuse is lit. Cecily could practically hear Caleb’s voice and she had to smother a smile as she was thrown into a memory. 

“Unless you dunk it in the river,” Abe had cut in, a mischievous gleam in his eyes as he and Caleb exchanged looks.  
“Abraham!” Anna hit him on the arm.  
“And you, Cissy, are like a firecracker when your tongue gets going,” Caleb finished with a smirk. “Ouch!” he exclaimed when Anna smacked him as well for good measure. “What’s your problem, woman?”  
“Don’t you ‘woman’ me, Caleb Brewster,” Anna said, raising her hand to hit him again, but Caleb ducked out of the way with a chuckle.  
“Eh, Woody. Looks like both of em’ need a dunking.” Caleb said with a wink as he advanced on the two girls.  
“Caleb-” Cecily began, raising a threatening finger, but before she could finish there was a sudden blur from behind her and Caleb disappeared with a surprised yelp. There was a loud splash and a second later a spluttering, very annoyed, and very wet Caleb came up from the water. A lily pad rested upon his head. Cecily, Anna, and Abraham were doubled over, roaring with laughter.  
“What in the bloody hell was that for?” he roared at Ben; it was he who had pushed Caleb into the water.  
“It had to be done, Caleb,” Ben said. “Pushing a lady into a river is no way to behave. Besides,” he drawled and gave a crooked grin that always made Cecily’s heart flutter. “At least now you don’t smell as bad.”  
Caleb’s face turned an angry shade of red beneath his lily pad. “You little shite, I’ll get you for this!” After some incredibly creative cursing Caleb managed to slog back onto the river bank, trailing duckweed from his sleeves. He grabbed the lily pad and threw it angrily on the ground.  
Ben had started to back up, laughing softly. “My, Brewster, I guess that impromptu bath did nothing for that mouth of yours.”  
With a roar, he launched himself at Ben, who shot off into the woods, a dripping wet Caleb in hot pursuit. Abe wasted no time running after and Anna let out her customary shout, scolding them all, before hitching up her skirts and joining the chase.  
Cecily laughed aloud and began in the direction her friends had thundered off in. She continued to laugh as she crunched through leaves, following the path of trampled weeds.  
“Cecily,” a voice called to her softly.  
She stopped, looking around in confusion.  
“Up here.”  
Cecily did as she was bidden and looked up. To her surprise she saw Ben grinning at her from up in a tree. He held out his hand to her, a silent invitation. Grinning in return, Cecily hoisted her skirt up and grabbed a branch, hauling herself up to join him on the limb with ease. Ben placed his hands on her waist to steady her as she got herself situated and she tried not to let how much his contact affected her show.  
“Well, this is a fine hiding place you have for yourself up here, Benjamin.”  
He had smirked. “Now we just get to sit here and wait to see how long it takes that thick-headed bull down there to realize I’m no longer in front of him.”  
She giggled. “We may be here a while yet.”  
“I don’t mind that at all. It’s quite cozy up here.”  
Their eyes met. “I agree.” Cecily told him.  
“Thank you,” she added. “For coming to my rescue back there. I should not have liked to take a bath in this dress.”  
Ben had reached out and brushed back a piece of her hair, making Cecily’s breath catch in her throat. “Of course. I’ll always be there for you.”  
That was how it always was in their circle of friends. Caleb and Abe were the trouble makers, Cecily was the sass, Anna was the peacekeeper, and Ben…Ben had always been the silent protector. Always watching, always keeping his distance until one or all of them needed him. He had always been her savior.

Where was Ben now?  
“Miss Dartmore?” Major Andre’s voice yanked her away from her reverie. Cecily snapped her head to face him, flushing deeply.  
“I beg your pardon, Major.”  
He chuckled. “You need none from me. I was merely saying how you’re absolutely correct in saying that worthiness is a subjective trait. However, it can also lead to delusion.”  
“You’re positive that the rebels will be beaten then?” Cecily forced fake hopefulness into her voice.  
“Yes, I am sure of it,” the Major replied.  
“You see my dear, nothing to worry about.” Lord Dartmore said, reaching across the table to pat her hand.  
“However…” Major Andre continued deliberately, ensuring that Cecily and her father fixed their full attention on him.  
“John?” Her father questioned. “Do you think this wise?”  
“Now, now Robert.” Andre said, casually sipping from his glass. “Your daughter has expressed interest and superb intellectual maturity for her age. I see no harm in sharing certain classified intelligence with her.”  
Cecily frowned. “What intelligence?”  
Major Andre leaned forward and spoke in a low voice as if he were afraid someone might overhear him. “Though I am confident of a British victory, I fear that this bloody war will not be over quite as quickly as many of my superiors would like to believe.”  
“Oh?” Cecily raised her eyebrows, her interest piqued.  
“My dear, are you versed in the old languages?” Andre asked suddenly.  
Cecily blinked, caught off guard. “Why, yes Major. I have studied both Latin and Greek.”  
“A well learned young woman. How refreshing. You will understand then, I believe, the phrase illic serpentes vidi in horto?”  
“There are snakes in the garden?” Cecily questioned. “You are referring to spies, Major Andre?”  
Andre gave her a pleased smile. “Most perceptive. Yes, exactly like spies. I believe that the rebels have managed to organize a spy network to obtain British intelligence.”  
Careful, her mind warned her as Cecily folded her hands in her lap. “But surely you don’t think that any spy network the rebels could conceive is actually a threat to the royal army?”  
“Ah, but that is where it gets rather interesting. At first I brushed off the thought of rebel spies as mere child’s play that could never actually work. But I was proven wrong when several instances occurred in which highly classified information was leaked and plans were foiled, resulting in…it pains me to say it…American victories.”  
“And you think these rebel spies are responsible?”  
“I see no other alternative.” The Major replied. “It has become my top priority to see this threat removed. I fear their existence, if allowed to continue, will prolong the war unnecessarily.”  
“Oh dear,” Cecily feigned being overwhelmed even though her mind was racing. “Do you have any ideas as to the whereabouts of this spy rings base? So you might intercede before they have the chance to unleash another of their nefarious plans.”  
“No, nothing confirmed but there is a great deal of suspicious activities that surround this tiny little fishing town on Long Island.”  
Cecily’s heart jumped into her throat. Could it be…?  
“I used to summer on Long Island with my Aunt before she passed away.” Cecily said aloud. “What might the name of this little town be? I wonder if it’s the same one.”  
Even as the words left her mouth, Cecily realized that Major Andre had known precisely what she would say before she uttered it. His eyes glittering in triumph he said, “Setauket.”  
The room seemed to still. Cecily could only pray her expression gave nothing away as she composed a response.  
“Oh my, it is the same! Father, how positively ironic!” She hoped her girlish enthusiasm covered up the real feelings racing through her veins. Traitorous feeling, as they would be construed by her father and the Major alike.  
“Quite the coincidence my dear,” Lord Dartmore murmured, having remained quiet until then. He was giving Andre a look that was almost…suspicious.  
Andre settled back and said, comfortably, “It is a small world we live in, Miss Dartmore. A small world indeed.”

***********************************************************************************************************************************************************************

By the time Cecily excused herself from the company of the gentlemen and retired upstairs to her room it was getting quite late. Despite her exhaustion she got out her stationery, quill, and a pot of ink, and set them on the small table by the window. Working by the light of an oil lamp, she carefully scratched out a letter. It took her longer to write than she had expected, but she wanted to word it very carefully.  
She was also distracted by her thoughts, which continued to drift back to her conversation with Major Andre. Something about his expression at the mention of Setauket made her very nervous. It was almost as if the Major had wanted her to ask him about the location of the spy ring, just so she could admit that she had been there.  
To what end though? She wondered. She, Cecily, had nothing to do with the spies in Long Island. It had been years since she was last there, years since those long summer days spent with Ben Tallmadge and the others.  
When Mariah came to help her get ready for bed Cecily was dripping wax onto the ribbon binding her letter.  
“It’s a cold one tonight, Miss Cecily,” Mariah said in her rich, southern voice, moving to close the curtains on the darkness. She was a handsome, strong looking woman, who carried herself with as much pride as a well-bred English lady. Her skin was the color of cocoa and her eyes, set above her wide, flat nose and round cheeks, were like black coffee. Mariah had been with the Dartmore family since she was a little girl. Cecily’s aunt had brought her on when Mariah was young and seen her raised proper, even providing for an excellent education. When Cecily turned eleven Mariah was hired on to her as a companion and lady’s maid. Although she was only a few years older than her mistress, Mariah’s matronly ways made her seem decades more advanced.  
“I think perhaps a heating pan,” Mariah continued, proceeding now to the fireplace where she crouched and started spooning hot coals into a metal bed warmer. “Lord Dartmore and the Major are still down in his study. I swear, if those men had a proper lady in their lives they would not keep such dreadfully late hours.”  
“My father has lost all the good habits you taught him, Mariah.” Cecily blew on the wax to help it cool. She set the letter down and stood up, untying her robe and slinging it carelessly over the bedpost. She tucked her feet under the thick comforter on her bed, burrowing down into the pillows. “Major Andre is a bad influence.”  
“On you as well, Miss Cecily,” said Mariah. “You let that handsome man lure you into those long conversations. Dinner went twice as long this evening!”  
“Just because he’s handsome does not mean I am hanging onto his every word.” Cecily was mildly offended at Mariah’s suggestion. She was perfectly capable of keeping her head when a good-looking man talked to her; Ben was proof enough of that. “The Major is interesting.”  
Mariah huffed. “Lord knows it takes a man of extreme caliber to keep up with your wit.” She slid the bed warmer beneath the sheets and then smoothed out the blankets. “And don’t you take that as a compliment! I know how your mind works, child.”  
Cecily stuck her tongue out at her childishly. “Mariah, can I ask you to do something for me?”  
Mariah, who had been hanging up Cecily’s castoff robe, turned at the sudden change in Cecily’s tone. “Of course.”  
“Only- I don’t want you to say yes just because you feel obligated.”  
“Goodness, child, what is the matter?” Mariah asked, sitting on the edge of the bed. She took one of Cecily’s hands in her own. “You know I will do anything for you.”  
Cecily squeezed her hand in gratitude. “I need you to deliver a letter for me. The man it’s for –well, I don’t know where he is exactly.”  
“This is most cryptic, Miss Cecily.”  
“It needs to go to Caleb Brewster. Last I heard he was somewhere around Long Island, on the Continental side.”  
Understanding passed between the two women. Mariah knew well where Cecily’s loyalties lay. She would smile and oblige just as much as Cecily before the Major and his men, but Mariah harbored no love for the British.  
She stood up, her face set. “Give the letter to me. I’ll see it delivered.”  
“Thank you.” Cecily replied, grateful. Then, realizing something she grabbed Mariah’s sleeve as she began to turn away. The other woman gave her a startled look as Cecily began to explain. “Oh, and please tell him that knowledge of the contents of this letter are for him only. He must not speak a word of it to anyone else, under any circumstance.”  
Mariah observed her thoughtfully for a moment. “You mean you don’t want Benjamin Tallmadge to know its contents.” She said finally. It wasn’t a question.  
Cecily averted her eyes guiltily. Curse this woman for always being able to see straight through her. Mariah tsked under her breath. “Lord only knows what you’re up to and quite frankly I don’t even want to know.”  
“Well that’s a relief considering I wasn’t planning on disclosing the information.” Cecily told her with a saucy tone.  
Mariah chuckled and shook her head. “Heaven help me…” she mused.  
“You’ll still see it delivered, though?” Cecily asked again, suddenly feeling slightly desperate. “And include the bit about it only being for Caleb’s eyes?”  
Mariah smiled and smoothed Cecily’s hair back lovingly, the gesture familiar and comforting. “Of course I will.” 

************************************************************************************************************************************************************************

Colonel Gabriel Alphonse Marshal Castor of the 1st King’s Dragoons was concerned, chiefly, with the outcome of the war, but his passionate interest lay in the cultivation of good breeding. There was nothing, he reasoned, more important for a nation than to have citizens of quality stock. Having devoted most of his life to the breeding of horses he believed to be quite an authority on this. He had discovered that the purer the parents, the nearer to perfection the offspring. It followed then that a man so attuned to the fine details of genealogy would be also fascinated by imperfections, and so he was.  
He was described by men who knew him as being tall; in reality he was not, but was often mistaken for such due to his almost constantly being mounted. He was rather unremarkable looking, clean shaven and with his long brown hair bound in the style shared by most of the Dragoons. It was his eyes, however, which distinguished him from the rest of the Calvary. No one had eyes like Colonel Castor. When he fixed them on a person they would squirm uncomfortably, like a small animal caught beneath the gaze of a particularly scrupulous owl. Colonel Castor missed nothing.  
Dawn was only a few hours hence, and a chilly mist hung in the air. It seemed to ooze out of the very trees that made up the copse, inching moist white fingers into the boots and collars of the soldiers until the men were shivering and stamping their feet.  
There were about half of a dozen of them, and they were all privately hoping that they would not need to discharge their rifles. It was very likely the powder would be too wet now because of the mist.  
Amidst the soldiers two men knelt upon the hard ground, their hands bound behind their backs. One was a man wearing the dusty but expensive clothes of a merchant, his frame soft around the edges from dining on rich meals. The other was his black slave, a young man with arms like saplings who looked capable of wielding an axe with an accuracy that was making the soldiers nervous.  
The sound of approaching hoof beats made the men turn. Out of the mist two horses appeared, slowing to a trot as they neared the group. Both riders dismounted smoothly, one removing his feathered helmet before approaching the soldiers and their prisoners.  
“Is this them?” asked the man who had taken off his helmet. That was Colonel Castor.  
“Yes sir,” said the second rider. “They were trying to sneak through the woods and avoid the border check.”  
The man who looked like a merchant took that moment to pipe up. “I was just trying to reach Charleston without being stripped of all my goods! The last two times I’ve taken this trip you English-men-” he nearly spat the word “Have taken it upon yourselves to relieve me of my stock. How can an honest man make a living when it’s ‘seized for His Majesties troops’?”  
“I find your story to be unlikely,” said Castor. “If that was indeed the case, why do you not have any supplies with you?”  
The merchant’s reply was only a second too late. “I buried them. They’re stashed in the woods. I was going to get them when I was grabbed by these soldiers.” The merchant was realizing that Castor was the man in charge and, more importantly, someone that could potentially be bribed. “Please, sir,” he said obsequiously, “you are a gentleman of class. You must understand the necessity of trade!”  
“Certainly,” said Castor. He was not looking at the merchant however. This entire time his eyes had been fixed upon the black captive. He had been noticing that the slave’s ebony skin was mottled with white. “This is your slave, is it?”  
“Yes sir, had him since he was a nubbin.”  
“Do you have a name, boy?” Castor asked the slave.  
The slave raised heavily lidded eyes to the Colonel’s face. He looked away again so quickly it was as if he had been burned by Castor’s gaze. He half glanced in the direction of his master, clearly unsure whether to speak or hold his tongue. Slowly and with extreme care he said, “Caliban.” His voice was deep and hollow, like the reverberations of a brass gong.  
Castor’s lip curled in a smile. “The monster from the Tempest. You are a scholarly man, then, master?” He asked the merchant.  
“One does a little light reading,” said the merchant humbly.  
“I myself share a passion for the Bard,” said Castor. “Back to the issue at hand, Master-?”  
“Dogson, sir.”  
“Master Dogson.”  
“This is a misunderstanding. I’m just a merchant, sir.”  
“The border check points are there for your safety, are they not?”  
“Yes, I know they are. I’m sure you will forgive my foolish thinking.”  
“I trust I can rely on you to understand the error of your ways?”  
“Certainly, sir, of course.” The merchant nearly gasped the words. The relief was painfully clear in his face. He did not seem to notice that the soldiers surrounding him were suddenly edging away.  
Castor crouched down in front of Dogson so that his eyes were level with the merchant’s. The merchant’s face, before breaking into profound relief, was suddenly afraid.  
“I know who you are,” Castor whispered to him.  
“S-sir?”  
“You are a spy and a traitor to the crown.”  
Dogson spluttered. “What? That is ridiculous! Of course, I am not-”  
“Your slave,” Castor tilted his head slightly towards Caliban “was seen passing illegal correspondence to a rebel in Charleston during his last visit, a rebel who, once we arrested and interrogated him, gave us a name. Your name, Master Dogson. We were unsure who you were until we saw the two of you together.”  
“This is absurd!” Dogson said desperately. “I am not a traitor.”  
“Shhh,” Castor placed a gloved finger to his lips. Dogson fell silent as if struck dumb. “Do you know how to make a thing perfect, Master Dogson?” Castor drew a wickedly curved dagger with a beautiful ivory handle from his belt. “You must first cut away the imperfections.”  
Dogson’s scream echoed sharp and brief around the trees. It lingered in the air, shimmering like the mist.  
Castor cleaned the blade of his knife on Dogson’s lapel. He gave the merchant a shove and he slumped to the ground, blood seeping over the earth.  
“Caliban,” Castor addressed the slave. “I have a proposition for you.”  
Caliban was staring at the ground between Castor’s feet. He could see the limp form of his former master out of the corner of his eye.  
“Would you be willing to hear me out?”  
Slowly, Caliban swallowed. “No man ever asked my opinion before, sah,” he rumbled.  
“I will put it this way. You can come with me and hear what I have to say, or you can join your master. Wherever he’s gone,” Castor added with a meaningful glance downward.  
Caliban pondered this. “I think I will go with you, sah.”  
Castor’s smile was predatory and not at all comforting. “Excellent.”

Under Colonel Castor’s command there was one man from Lyon, a little Frenchman who had spent nearly his entire life walking the forests of America. He was Castor’s best scout and was known for his fondness for rifles. Severin, as was the scout’s name, had a nick-name for Colonel Castor, which had quickly been adopted by the rest of the soldiers.  
Sang-froid: cold blood.


	2. A Periculosissime Admittitur haec Compensatio

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Much thanks to stayinschoolkids for your review and to everyone who left kudos or otherwise enjoyed the story. This chapter is a little bit shorter than the last, and I apologize, but I will probably post the next update sooner because of it. Once again, a shout out to my co-author, Robin Goodly, for helping with this fic. And as always, I look forward to hearing what everyone thinks! 
> 
> Latin chapter title translations (because I realized I should probably provide this):  
> chapter 1: praeparabit viam --> clear the way  
> chapter 2: A Periculosissime Admittitur haec Compensatio --> a dangerous exchange

A Periculosissime Admittitur haec Compensatio

The light from a full moon shone brightly down on the cobblestone streets of New York City. Not many people were out on at such a late hour, the few exceptions keeping their heads down and not pausing to linger.  
Mariah, wrapped in a traveling cloak, wended her way quietly along her familiar route. She had come this way before to pick up certain goods that would be otherwise out of her reach in a normal market setting. It had been enough times that she knew well enough to keep her head down. Traveling the city at night was dangerous for any woman alone, especially for one of Mariah’s standing. Perhaps in a more respectable part of town it would be less perilous, but as it was, Mariah was not traveling down paths that often saw the passing footsteps of respectable members of society. The man she was seeking could no more than show his face in a place where British officers might detect him than a person of her color would be able to pass safely through the southern colonies. Merely thinking about the implications of her capture made Mariah shudder. Though she was confident in her position as a free woman and lady’s maid in a high standing household, it would not bode well for her to be caught out on these streets alone, and at this time of night.  
A sudden crash of a door opening made Mariah jump and draw back into the shadows. Boisterous laughter sounded from a nearby alleyway. A woman’s voice shouted something angrily and she was answered by a chorus of rude remarks from the laughing men. The door slammed again and the men’s heavy footfalls could be heard moving away, their voices still obnoxiously loud.  
Mariah remained where she was a moment longer, a hand pressed to her pounding heart. Involuntarily she reached for the piece of paper tucked inside her coat. Her fingers traced the wax seal, reassuring herself it was still with her and hadn’t fallen out in her haste. She took a deep breath and -gathering her cloak more securely around her still slightly trembling form- set off again.  
It was not that much farther to her destination. She spied it when she was still a little ways off, a low, ramshackle building crouching like a dirty cat in the middle of the street. Dim candlelight flickered in the windows on either side of the door, which was weather beaten and scarred from the numerous times soldiers had kicked it down.  
A sign swinging above the door proclaimed in bold red paint:

les coq mort

The Dead Rooster. Beneath the words was a faded painting of a strutting cockerel. Mariah felt her lips curve up at the corners. Only Caleb Brewster would manage to find a place like this; a little corner of the black market nestled in the middle of the city.  
Taking a breath and adjusting her hood to make certain her face was obscured, Mariah pushed the door open and stepped inside. The stench of alcohol and vomit immediately assaulted her senses.  
The pub was filled with characters of questionable morals, all laughing and carousing. Mariah skirted the edge of the room and approached the bartender, who was swabbing out a glass with a yellowed rag that only appeared to be making it dirtier.  
Well, Mariah thought to herself, at least I won’t be having a drink while I’m here.  
At that moment, the bartender looked up from his work and spotted her. He was tough and a little greasy looking, with a sparse amount of ginger hair crowning his head. An angry red scar on his left cheek seemed particularly menacing in the dim light. Mariah wasn’t too unnerved though. Despite his gruff appearance, Rooster had never done anything to make her think he was a bad man, though he was certainly not the type of company with whom she would normally choose to associate.  
Catching her eye, he made a subtle gesture behind him towards the door that led to the back storeroom.  
Perfect. He was here.  
Giving a slight nod of thanks in return, Mariah slunk past the bar and slipped through the door. The storeroom was even darker than the pub. Mariah could hardly see two feet in front of her. She squinted into the gloom.  
“Brewster?” she hissed. “Are you there?” There was movement from deeper in the room and she edged forward, trying to make out a person. A crate fell to the ground behind her with a crash. She yelped in alarm. “So help me Master Brewster, if you’re having a go at me I’ll make you regret the day you were born!”  
There came a familiar chuckle that nearly scared the ghost out of Mariah (who was already thoroughly wired) and a voice that said, “Aw, come on now Miss Mar, don’t be like that.”  
Mariah spun around, her hand raised to deliver the slap of a lifetime, but before she could a large hand caught her by the wrist and Caleb’s smiling, bearded face came into view.  
“That’s not very nice,” he said feigning offense.  
Mariah glared at him. “Master Brewster! I swear you’re part ghost, you little bearded demon! Slinking around nearly giving me a heart attack. I ought to-” she raised her other hand but Caleb caught it as well.  
“Alright, alright! You’ve made your point. Now please stop trying to hit me. We’ve both run out of hands and I’d hate to have to sit on ya to keep ya down.”  
Mariah opened her mouth to tell him off some more for incessant impertinence. Normally she wouldn’t be so bold, but Caleb Brewster was the type of man who could test the patience of a saint.  
Swift as a cobra, Caleb moved both her wrists to one hand and used his other to cover her mouth. “Ah ah ah.” He chided.  
Mariah made an indignant noise and tried to jerk free of his grasp. Caleb raised an eyebrow. “Promise me you’ll not try to punch me again. I’d like to keep the goods in one piece.”  
She rolled her eyes but gave a subtle nod. He immediately released her and stepped back. Mariah stood where he left her for a moment, reigning in her anger and regaining composure. “The devil marked your birth, Master Brewster, I swear it to be so.”  
Caleb ignored this little comment. “Miss Mariah Altus, in the flesh. You don’t often come to see me personally, what’s this visit for? You know your shipment ain’t in yet…”  
“I’m not here for myself.” She blurted out. “I have another’s business to attend to.”  
Caleb eyed her warily. “Oh? Well consider my interest piqued.” He finished with a cheeky grin.  
Mariah reached down in her coat pocket, pulling out the letter and holding it out to him.  
“What’s this?” He simply stared, making no move to take it.  
“It’s from Miss Cecily.” She told him. “Are you going to take it or shall I stand here a while longer like a coatrack?”  
Caleb chuckled and took the letter. There was concern in his eyes that held amusement a mere moment before. “What’s it about? Is she alright?”  
“She’s fine. As for its contents, I do not know. She made it quite clear that your eyes are the only ones to see it, with no exceptions.”  
“She’d only go through the trouble of clarifying that if it was Ben she wants me to keep it from.” Caleb replied, thoughtfully.  
“I would presume so, yes.”  
“Hmmm…” Caleb mused and Mariah felt a jolt of fear.  
“You will honor her request, won’t you?” She inquired.  
“Of course, of course,” was Caleb’s response. “I am just curious to hear what our little Cissy bird is up to. Is that toff still staying at Dartmore House?”  
“You are referring to the Major?” Mariah nodded. “He shows no signs of leaving anytime soon.”  
“I can’t imagine how Cissy can stand living under the same roof as a bloody Englishman.”  
Recalling Major Andre’s handsome face and twinkling eyes Mariah had a fairly good idea of how Cecily was able to cope. “She’s managing,” she said. Then she sighed. “I fear for her sometimes, I truly do. She’s so stubborn and determined, which is a dangerous combination in a lady, especially one in her position and with her convictions.”  
“You mean the fact that she’s a blazing patriot surrounded by Tories.”  
Mariah nodded, unable to formulate a response.  
“It’ll be alright, Miss Mar.” Caleb told her and Mariah found herself nodding for no reason. Perhaps to reassure herself that he was right, even though she had a terrible feeling in her gut.  
“I’ll drop a response at the back door of the manor tomorrow night. Will you be there to retrieve it?” Caleb asked.  
“No, you mustn’t come to the house! It’s too dangerous,” Mariah protested.  
“I wasn’t going to come personally. I’ll send a message with the egg boy.”  
Reluctantly, Mariah agreed.  
Though they parted well enough, an uneasy feeling stuck with Mariah as she made her way home. She knew her mistress was plotting something...something that would put her –and perhaps them all- in danger. Mariah was terrified Cecily was getting in over her head. The only thing she could do was promise herself that she would do whatever it took to keep her mistress safe.  
Mariah was so caught up in her thoughts she failed to notice where she was going. She walked slap into a patrol of British soldiers. The moment she realized her mistake she was fumbling apologies and acting the part of the humble servant.  
“There is a curfew,” said one of the Red coats sternly. He appeared to be leading the patrol.  
“I know sir, I’m so terribly sorry, sir,” Mariah tugged metaphorically on her forelock. “I was just on my way home.”  
“Let me see your papers,” the man said after a pause.  
Mariah handed them over. She clenched her hands in the fabric of her cloak to keep them from trembling.  
“Mariah Altus,” read the Red coat carefully. “It says here you work up at Dartmore House, is that correct?”  
Of course it is, you buffoon. Why else would it say I worked there? “Yes, sir.”  
The man was gazing at her face, taping her papers thoughtfully against his palm. “I think I recognize you. Do you work in the kitchens?”  
“Sir, I do many jobs for the Dartmores.” It was perfectly true. “They’s a good family to me and mine.” She smiled at him.  
The soldier’s eyes narrowed very slightly. “You go straight back there, understand? I don’t want to catch you breaking the curfew again.”  
“Certainly sir, won’t happen again. Thank you.” She took her papers back from him and continued on her way, forcing herself not to run. The moment the soldiers were out of sight Mariah ran the rest of the way back to Dartmore house.


	3. Iuxta Vocationem

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, here is the next chapter! I hope everyone enjoys it, and as always, comments are always appreciated! 
> 
> Iuxta Vocationem - according to the calling

When Cecily woke the following morning, she replayed the events of the previous night through her head. Her own daring as well as the prospect of hearing Caleb’s response made her jittery and impatient for Mariah to come upstairs.   
“Is it done?” Cecily all but blurted out the moment Mariah came in.  
Her lady’s maid gave her long, disapproving look. “Your hair is a disgrace. Sit down so I can make it presentable.”   
Cecily flounced over to the dressing table, exaggerating the movements to show her impatience. “Did you see him? Caleb, I mean.”  
“Hold still!” Mariah chided as she worked out the tangles in Cecily’s long red hair. “Or else this will take much longer than it needs to.”  
“Mariah, please-”  
“For heaven’s sake, it’s all taken care of!” Mariah assured her in a cautious whisper. “Now stop squirming.”  
“I’m sorry,” said Cecily and made an effort to keep still. “I just can’t help it. My nerves are all a flutter. Do you think there’ll be a response soon?”  
“I can’t be sure…but I’d be willing to bet that there will be something tonight.”  
Cecily spun around to face Mariah, who was giving her a smug look and clearly trying not to smile. She gaped at her. “Mariah! What are you not telling me?”  
Her companion’s smile was secretive as she leaned over to pick up the silken ribbons that were to bind Cecily’s hair. “Don’t you worry none.” She told her. “Remember that patience is a virtue.”  
“So is honesty.” Cecily grumbled, turning back around and allowing her hair to be finished. Mariah only chuckled and there was silence between the two of them until Cecily spoke again. “Did you run into any trouble?”  
There were a few moments of silence from the other party. “No, Miss Cecily. No trouble at all.”  
Cecily narrowed her eyes in the mirror as she looked at her lady’s maid and friend. “There’s something you’re not telling me.”  
“No, everything is fine.”  
“Is, because you’re safely here. I’m asking if everything was fine.”  
“Yes, it was.” Mariah said again and although she was not entirely convinced, Cecily let it go. If it were anything dangerous, Mariah would have said as much.   
“I guess I shall be on the lookout for the answering letter tonight then.” Cecily said at last, letting the matter drop.  
“I can’t begin to know what you’re up to, girl. But I hope you’re being careful.” Mariah sounded weary and troubled.   
“Oh dear, Mariah! Don’t fret so. It will all be alright. Once I reach who I need, it will all be alright.” Cecily was unable to fight the smile that came up at the thought of reuniting with him.  
Almost as if she had read her thoughts Mariah smirked and said, “You mean once you reach Benjamin Tallmadge.”   
Cecily felt her cheeks flush as she stared at the other woman through the mirror.  
Mariah stared back knowingly, completely unabashed. “Don’t even try to deny it,” she warned. “You’ve always been enamored with that boy from the time you were children and I know for a fact that hasn’t changed.”  
“Can I hide nothing from you, Mariah?”  
“There!” Mariah finished Cecily’s hair with a flourish. “You ought to get a handle on your blushing before you go downstairs, or else the Major might grow suspicious.” With a wink, she strode off to collect Cecily’s gown for the day, leaving Cecily herself sitting in front of her vanity mirror like a pile of blancmange. Was she really so transparent? If so, then Mariah was completely right. She needed to keep herself in check or Major Andre would see right through her and…well, then her entire plan would be null and void.   
Everything…everything she was planning on required that her intentions remain in the shadows from all those around her. It was vital if she wanted to come out of it alive. 

 

***

 

Thankfully, by the time Cecily descended the stairs for breakfast, she had indeed regained her composure. This turned out to be fortunate, because she had scarcely set foot on the first floor when Major Andre turned the corner.  
“Ah, Miss Dartmore,” he called, spying her and altering his course to saunter over to where she stood.  
Cecily inclined her head in polite greeting. “Good morning, Major. I trust you had a pleasant sleep?”  
“Most pleasant, yes. And full of most pleasant dreams.” His gaze met hers, a very mischievous glint in its depths and Cecily found herself flushing deeply for the second time that morning. And both times had been a result of either thinking about or talking to different men. Goodness, she really did have to get a hold of herself.   
“Why, Major,” she played up the blushing violet, waving him off playfully. “You must be careful with what you say. This is my father’s house and your words may be construed as something they were not intended to be.”  
“My dear, everything I do has intent.” Andre replied. “Which of course brings me to my next objective…”  
Her eyebrows flew up. My, this man was bold. “Oh?” She questioned.   
Major Andre smiled. “I was hoping to ask you a few questions…perhaps you would do me the favor of stepping into my office for a few moments?”  
His office. Cecily tried not to seethe at his presumptuous remark but found it hard to stop the anger that flooded her system. His office? As if this was not her father’s house, but his. Of course, she kept this to herself and instead answered much more appropriately.   
“Is that hardly decorous?” She asked. “Inviting a lady of marrying age into a private room unchaperoned?”  
Andre smirked. “Oh don’t worry. I’m sure your father can have no objection. Your virtue will be quite safe with me.”  
Cecily narrowed her eyes in skepticism. “If you insist. I must admit myself curious to the nature of these questions, however.”  
He laughed. “My, my, quite suspicious, are we? Think of it as merely a friendly conversation between acquaintances.”   
He didn’t say it wasn’t an interrogation, though. How curious. “Very well then. I suppose you must have your answers, mustn’t you, Major?”  
“I am so pleased you are willing to oblige me, Miss Dartmore.” Major Andre offered his arm, which she took, and escorted her to her father’s large and luxurious study, which was now serving as the Major’s office. As Andre shut the door Cecily took it upon herself to sit in the chair in front of the large Mahogany desk, positioning herself in a way that would best show off her figure. A moment later Andre took the chair behind the desk.  
“Now, what is all this about?” Cecily inquired, folding her hands demurely in her lap.  
“I was hoping you might tell me more about your family in Setauket.”  
Ah, that. That was one thing Cecily had hoped this wouldn’t be about. Even though she didn’t want to answer, not doing so would breed suspicion that she could not afford, especially this early in the game.  
“Oh? What about, in particular?”  
“Whatever comes to mind,” he said vaguely.  
“Are you thinking of holidaying there?”  
Major Andre gave her a smile. “No. Your father mentioned that your uncle by marriage is Richard Woodhull, the town magistrate.”  
“Yes, that is true. When I visited, it was his home in which I stayed. He has two sons. Excuse me, he has one son. The elder passed away.”  
“Thomas Woodhull,” said Major Andre with a glance down at something on his desk. Did he already have notes on the Woodhulls? “He was a British officer, was he not?”  
“Yes, a Captain.”  
“The records say he was tragically killed while trying to put down a rebellion at King’s College in 73’?” Andre prodded.  
“Yes. I see you have done your research,” said Cecily.   
Major Andre chuckled. “Well, as head of British Intelligence I like to keep my facts straight. And to fill in any gaps.”  
“That is my purpose here then? To fill in gaps?”  
“At the risk of sounding uncouth…” Andre trailed away artfully. Really, he was excellent when it came to conversation. He could have stabbed you in the back and then have you apologize, just with a few artful words from that perfect mouth of his.  
Cecily blinked. She had been staring at Andre’s lips and completely failed to catch his next words.  
“I’m sorry?” she said.  
“I said your testimonial will be much appreciated, no matter the amount of information you provide.  
Cecily smiled. “What else do you wish to know?”  
“Tell me what became of your other cousin, Abraham. Do you know of his loyalties?”  
“I fear I cannot say.” She replied. “It has been some years since I have been there and we have not kept in touch since my aunt’s passing. As far as his loyalties, I know my aunt was, and my uncle is, ardently loyal to the crown. I see no reason why Abraham’s would sway from that path as well.”  
“One might be surprised how often the convictions of the child do not match those of the parent.” Was Andre’s simple reply, and as he gazed at her Cecily felt as if she might already have been compromised but she quickly rebuffed those feelings. It would do her no good to dwell on them.   
“Regardless,” she said. “I am afraid I still cannot say because I simply do not have the answer. However, I would imagine he is still a fervent loyalist. He always wanted to please his father.”  
“Noted,” said Andre, actually taking out quill and ink, writing down what she had said. “What of other acquaintances? Friends, perhaps?”  
This was the part she had been dreading the most. What on earth was she going to do? To say? She couldn’t very well tell him their names.   
“Major, there were many children in the town we played games with. Surely you don’t expect me to recall all of them?”  
“Not all, but your father did mention a few names with whom he said you were rather close to.”  
“Whom did he say? There were a few…it changed from summer to summer.” Cecily waved an airy hand, playing the part of the flighty Lord’s daughter, less concerned with who she was friends with and more so with her popularity. Inside, her heart was racing.  
“Benjamin Tallmadge and Caleb Brewster. There was another…a woman…Anna Smith, was it?” His eyes never left her own as he spoke, searching for recognition.  
She pursed her lips and feigned concentration, as if trying to recall something from a distant past. “Ah yes! They were the group of youths with whom I associated with the last few years of my going.” Lie. She had known them all her life. “My goodness, it’s been so long.” Only five years. “Please excuse my forgetfulness.” Lie. “I haven’t even thought about that chapter of my life in a long time.” Lie.  
“It’s quite alright, Miss Dartmore,” Major Andre said smiling softly at her, as if he knew precisely that she had lied. “I am just gathering information. I am sure no one with whom you associated would go native, if you’ll pardon the expression. However, it is a shame that you no longer have contact with these people. Your correspondence with them may have proven valuable.”  
Cecily took the opportunity to turn the heart away from herself. “Major!” she exclaimed in mock outrage. “I do hope you are not suggesting what I think you are, for if you are I should be greatly offended. Surely you are not thinking that you may have had the opportunity to recruit me as an informant.”  
“Of course not, Miss Dartmore.” He replied quickly.  
She smiled at his suddenly upset calm. “Well, that is a relief. Something like that is not business for a lady.”  
“You are absolutely right, Miss Dartmore,” Andre said, eyeing her with an unidentifiable expression on his face. If he had a glass of wine, he might have toasted her with it then in recognition of a move well played. “My most sincere apologies if I caused offence in any way.”  
Cecily stood up. “You are forgiven. However, I must bid you good day while I go in to breakfast.”  
“Certainly. Thank you again for your time.”  
“It was my pleasure.” With that, Cecily left the room, feeling more than slightly unnerved at the Major’s parting expression. It gave her the uncomfortable impression that he had not finished with her yet.

 

***

Later that morning when Cecily, her Father, and Major Andre were lounging in the front parlor when there was knock on the front door.   
“I wonder who that could be…” Lord Dartmore mused as their butler, Zachariah, went to answer it.   
A moment later Zachariah stepped back in and announced, “A Colonel Phillips, sah.” He stepped aside and a British regular appeared in the parlor doorway. All three of the room’s occupants rose from their seats to greet their visitor.   
“I am so sorry to disturb you, Lord Dartmore sir.” Said Colonel Phillips, giving a small bow.   
Lord Dartmore moved closer, “It’s not a problem at all, Colonel. What can I do for you?”  
“Oh, nothing sir. I merely wished to see if you were aware that one of your house servants was caught out on the streets last night? A Miss Mariah Altus.”  
Cecily bit back a gasp. Oh no. This was not good. She knew Mariah had been hiding something. Cecily was going to have to think of an excuse and fast.  
Lord Dartmore frowned and was just about to respond when she interceded. “I’m afraid that’s my fault, Colonel. I was feeling rather unwell late last night and sent Mariah to fetch something. I apologize if it caused any confusion.”  
Her father turned his frown on her. “Are you feeling quite alright now, dear?”   
“Much better, yes. It is truly nothing to worry about.”  
“Well,” the Colonel said. “If she has this young lady’s testimonial then I suppose I shall be on my way.”  
“Good day to you, Colonel and once again, I am sorry that you had to come up here for nothing.” Cecily told him, tone apologetic.   
“Not at all, Miss Dartmore. Good day to you all.” He inclined his head in each of their directions and went on his way.   
Once he had gone Cecily avoided both Andre and her father’s gaze, sitting herself down to nonchalantly continue with her needlework. Although every fiber of her being was screaming at her to get out of the room and to find Mariah, she knew that would only look as if she were guilty of something; which she was.   
After a few tense moments, Lord Dartmore opened up conversation with Major Andre and everything went back to normal…well, as normal as it could be. 

 

***

“How could you?” Cecily exclaimed as she entered her room for the evening and found Mariah tending to the fire with a poker.   
The other woman jumped and spun around to face her. “Gracious! You gave me fright.”  
Cecily stalked over to her and crossed her arms, feeling terribly betrayed. “You lied to me. Why didn’t you tell me you were caught last night?”  
“Because I didn’t want to worry you,” Mariah said, looking downcast. “I had my papers. Nothing came of it. How…how did you find out?”  
“A Colonel Phillips came over to the house this afternoon and reported it.”  
Mariah’s eyes flew open and her face drained of color. “Oh…oh dear Lord…I…”  
“It’s alright, Mariah.” Cecily was quick to console her, seeing how frightened the woman had become. “I took care of it. I said that I wasn’t feeling well and you were out to fetch something to make me feel better.”  
Mariah sagged with relief. “I’m so sorry, Miss Cecily. I didn’t know.”  
“It’s alright,” replied Cecily. “But we must agree to be completely honest with each other from now on. It is vital for what we’re about to embark on. If all goes well, that is.”  
Mariah nodded. “Of course. Now that we’re on the topic of honesty…I wonder if you might actually tell me what it is exactly we’ll be embarking on, as you put it?”  
Cecily grinned at her. “You mean you haven’t guessed?”  
Mariah’s answering smile was slightly devious. “Oh, I have my theories but I’d like to hear the real story.”  
“Very well, let’s have a seat.”   
By the time Cecily had finished telling Mariah her plan, the poor woman looked as if she was about to have a complete conniption.   
“Mariah?” Cecily prompted. “Are you alright?”  
“You’ve lost your mind,” she murmured.   
Cecily let out a sigh. “On the contrary, I would say I will finally be able to put my mind to good use. I’m positively weary of playing the role of meek and fragile lady. This is my chance to do something with my life.”   
“This is your chance to get yourself killed.” Mariah countered.  
Cecily fixed her expression with steely determination. “I will do this with or without your help. Though without will increase my chances of being caught.”  
“Master Tallmadge will never agree to it.”  
“Maybe not at first, but like you he will have to learn to accept it. Now, are you on my side or not?”  
Mariah observed her for a few moments. “Lord have mercy on my soul,” she said at last and Cecily bit back a squeal of delight.   
“Oh Mariah! You won’t regret it, you’ll see!”  
“If you say so.”  
“Now I just have to wait for that reply from Caleb.” Cecily said, feeling very anxious indeed.   
“Oh!” Mariah suddenly exclaimed, clapping her hands together. “I nearly forgot!”  
Cecily frowned. “Forgot what?”  
Mariah, who had begun digging around her apron pockets, clucked to herself. “You came in here like such a windstorm it slipped my mind…ah! Here it is.” She held out an envelope.   
Cecily gasped and quickly took it, ripping it open with such haste the edge of the paper sliced into her thumb. She hissed in pain and jerked her hand back, pausing only for a moment to suck the bead of blood off it as she fumbled to open the letter with one hand.   
“It arrived this evening.” Mariah told her as Cecily finally succeeded in her plight to open the letter and her eyes darted over the message inside. 

Cissy, 

I have to say I was mighty surprised to hear from you after all these years, and you sure picked quite the time to send for me. Lucky for you, Tallboy and I aren’t too far away. I won’t say where in this letter just in case it’s compromised. See? Your old pal is always thinking. But I will say I don’t think this is a good idea. I’m sure you knew I would say this but I imagine you also know I won’t even bother trying to talk you out of it. I reckon that’s precisely why you sent it to me in the first place. Still a clever little firecracker, I see. Though, I want you to know I’m only agreeing to this because I know you’ll do this with or without me and I figure, at least with my help I can get you through in one piece and only risk most of my hide with Ben. Anyway, if you’re certain about this (and I would be lying if I said I wasn’t hoping you’ll change your mind) I’ll be waiting for you across the river tomorrow night. I know you’ll be able to handle yourself to get that far. I’ll be right there waiting, just say the word when you arrive so I know it’s you. I’m sure you’ll think of just the right thing. Good luck to you. 

Signed, 

Yours truly-the Bearded Wonder

Cecily felt her lips break into a wide smile as she did her best to smother a giggle. Caleb was…Caleb was something else. It sounded as if her friend hadn’t changed in the slightest, which she was extremely glad about. She felt giddy for a multitude of reasons after reading his letter: hearing from Caleb of course, his agreement to her plan, and her heart fluttered like a hummingbird at his every mention of Ben.   
With a little sigh, Cecily handed Mariah the note and flopped down on her bed, spreading her arms on the mattress, a stupid grin on her face. She was really going to do this.  
After a few moments of silence in which Cecily could only assume Mariah was reading, the other woman finally spoke. “Well, it looks as if we have some work to do to get you ready for tomorrow. What do you propose?”  
Cecily’s eyes twinkled up at the ceiling at the wickedness of the thoughts already forming in her head. “Prepare yourself Mariah. I believe I have a plan and it’s absolutely mad.”


	4. Deus Providet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: A bit of a shorter chapter, I know. I promise the next one will be longer! I hope this story is still holding everyone's interest and as always I appreciate any feedback!
> 
> Much thanks to my co-author, Robin Goodly, for all their help in writing this story. I could not do it without you! 
> 
> Disclaimer (because I keep forgetting to do these): I do not own anything pertaining to TURN: Washington's Spies.

Deus Providet

If Ben Tallmadge had a sovereign for every time Caleb Brewster swaggered into his tent, he would be a rich man.  
“What are you so cheerful about?” Ben snapped.  
Caleb, who had been whistling the tune to a bawdy song that was currently circulating around the camp, stopped short. He raised his eyebrows and, hooking his thumbs through the lapels of his coat, said, “Well, excuse me, Tallboy. What’s got your knickers in a twist this morning? You look as if you haven’t even been to bed.”  
“I haven’t,” said Ben curtly.  
“Well there’s your trouble: exhaustion. I’ve seen it do worse to men of sturdier constitutions than yours.”  
“This!” Ben waved a piece of paper distractedly in the air. “This is the problem.”  
Caleb watched Ben with a bemused expression. “Boyo, if a little scrap of paper is all it takes to get you riled, you really need to get out more. Find a nice girl, you know what I’m saying?”  
Ben glared at him. “I’m really not in the mood, Caleb.”  
“I’m sorry,” said Caleb. He did his best to affect a somber expression appropriate for one attending a funeral. “What’s put you in such a state?”  
“Read it.” Ben said, handing him the offensive parchment.  
Caleb took it and raised it up to his eyes with a flourish, clearing his throat before reading aloud, “Dear Mr. Bolton, I regret to bring you the news that your dog has been put down. He was recently discovered to be unwell and as such the breeder saw fit to have him dealt with. His companion has been taken in by the aforementioned breeder, and is currently on his way South to visit a friend in New York. Hoping this letter finds you well, yours truly, etcetera, etcetera.” Caleb looked at Ben. “I didn’t know you had a dog.”  
Ben gave him a withering look. “Of course I don’t. The dog is referring to one of our spies, a man going by the alias Dogson. He was a traveling merchant. He wasn’t the best, but he was our only runner up there. Without him we’ll be completely blind in that area.”  
“Who is the breeder?”  
“Colonel Gabriel Alphonse Marshal Castor, of the King’s Dragoons.” Ben said the name with great distaste.  
“Sounds like a toff.”  
“He may be, but at the moment he’s the biggest threat to our organization. I don’t know whose orders he’s operating under or where he gets his information, but this is the third of our spies that he’s executed in the past year. The man’s more resourceful than a bloody…a bloody…” Ben struggled. “More resourceful than you!” he finished, jerking his chin at Caleb.  
Caleb read the letter again, this time to himself. “Who is this friend in New York he’s planning to visit?”  
“I don’t know yet,” Ben said in frustration. “And without Dogson I don’t know how I’m going to find out. I need eyes in New York. Someone to let me know what his movements are and with whom he meets. Someone…what is it Caleb, you have a funny expression on your face.”   
“Nothing,” Caleb said innocently. “You know me, me face has a mind of its own. Some days it’s smiling when I feel like sobbing. Sounds like you’ve got a right problem on your hands, though, no mistake.” He swiped an apple from the table laden with Ben’s papers and took a bite out of it. Juice trickled into his beard. He wiped it away with the back of his hand. “You know what I say at times like this, the Lord provides!”  
“Hmm,” grunted Ben, no longer paying attention. “But when, Caleb, when?”  
“Oh sooner than you think, I expect,” Caleb said under his breath. “I’m off, then! And do us all’s a favor, boyo, and give yourself a rest! You won’t stay fair and handsome like me if you don’t get some sleep.”

 

***

Colonel Castor leaned forward in his horse’s saddle. He was squinting at a shape in the distance, an indistinct dark gray mass which crouched on the horizon. Overhead storm clouds loomed, black and menacing.  
“This is no good,” Colonel Castor grunted finally, settling back. “Get me a spyglass.”  
The mounted Dragoon beside him snapped a salute and turned his horse around, riding it back in the direction of their camp.  
Colonel Castor absentmindedly patted the rich mahogany red shoulder of his horse.  
Destrier snorted softly in response to his master’s touch. He was a fine English Warmblood, with powerful legs and neck, bigger and more spirited than any of the horses ridden by the Dragoons. Castor took extreme pride in Destrier, considering him to be one of the finest animals he had ever bred.  
Castor liked to think about his horses. Most of them remained on his estate in England, but a few, such as Destrier, had made the trip with him across to the Colonies. It was Castor’s ambition to acquire a few new horses and bring them back to England; he was planning on experimenting to see if he could create a new breed of horse, one with the elegance of English horses and the spirit of the wild Mustangs. Once this inconvenience of a war was dealt with, of course.  
Castor had of late started to dream about finding and catching Mustangs. He smiled, although there was no one around to share in the joke. What would the other Dragoons say if they knew that the thoughts of Colonel Castor were filled with wild horses?  
“There’s a storm coming.” A small man had unattached himself from the underbrush and come to stand quietly by Castor’s side. He was peculiarly dressed in a gallimaufry of clothing: worn leather boots, dark trousers, a belt of snakeskin through which a pistol and a machete in a thick oiled sheaf had been thrust, and a thigh length coat of nondescript color. His pointed face, beady dark eyes, and lithe body gave him the appearance of a ferret.  
Castor barely glanced at him. “Lend me your spy glass,” he said.  
The man tacitly unhooked the small spyglass from its pouch on his belt and handed it to the Colonel.  
Castor unfolded it and peered through the glass at the gray blob on the horizon.  
“Plymouth,” said his companion.  
“Where the pilgrims landed,” said Castor. With a satisfying click of metal the spyglass retracted. “Fetch me the slave, Severin.”  
The man, Severin, left without another word, vanishing into the trees just as silently as he had appeared.  
The Dragoon Castor had sent to find a spy glass returned then, slightly out of breath from the speed of his ride. He handed the glass to Castor, who took it without comment.  
His hands bound in heavy shackles, the slave Caliban came moving slowly in Severin’s wake. His eyes were warily watching the back of the Frenchman’s head, but when Castor came into view they darted nervously over the Colonel’s face before settling on the swishing black tail of Destrier.  
“Do you know anything about Plymouth, Caliban?” Castor asked him.  
“No sah,” replied the slave.  
“Good. You won’t need to for what I’m about to ask you to do. For heaven’s sake take those shackles off him,” Castor added to the Dragoon.  
The Dragoon hesitated. “Sir-”  
“Yes, what is it?”  
“I don’t have the key, sir. I’d need to go back to camp to…” He shrank back perceptively at the icy gleam in Castor’s eye.  
“Then go and fetch it, why don’t you?” Castor suggested coldly.  
“Yes sir,” mumbled the Dragoon. He rode off for the second time.  
Castor sighed a little through his nose, peevishly. “What was I saying? Ah yes, Plymouth. It’s very simple. All you need to do is take the letter Severin gives you and place it beneath the loose stone in the well in town. Once that is done you are to come back here. Understand?”  
“Yes,” said Caliban after a moment of consideration.  
“Excellent.” Castor gestured at Severin, who pulled a dirty and crumpled piece of paper from his coat pocket and passed it to the slave.  
Caliban fingered the paper, touching the rough substance as if he could read the words with his fingertips. “I cannot read, sah,” he said.  
“I’m not asking you to read the letter. Just deliver it.”  
The Dragoon came back and dismounted from his now annoyed horse. “Raise your hands,” he commanded Caliban. The slave did as he was bid and waited while the Dragoon unlocked the shackles.  
Once his white freckled wrists were free Caliban massaged them. He tucked the letter securely into his shirt and looked at Castor expectantly. Only, he didn’t look at Castor. He stared at Destrier’s twitching ears.  
“Off you go, then,” Castor told him. “Come back when it’s done. I’ll be waiting for you.” Castor and Severin watched as Caliban set off towards the town.  
“Will it be enough?” Severin asked.  
“You doubt me, Severin?”  
“Not you, sang-froid. It is the other players in the game I doubt.”  
“You see, that is where we differ. I have great confidence that the others will fulfill their part, because that is their purpose. They can no more act against their raison d'être then a caterpillar can resist its metamorphoses.”  
“Unless the caterpillar gets eaten, of course.”  
Castor’s mouth thinned ever so slightly. “In Caliban’s case, I am counting on it. Have faith. The Lord will provide.”


	5. Iter Nocte

Iter Nocte

“Well, you were absolutely right Miss Cecily,” Mariah announced from her place beside the bedpost. “This is completely and utterly mad.”  
“Yes, it may just be mad enough to work.” Cecily agreed, looking herself over in the mirror. She still couldn’t believe the transformation. This morning she had been in a dress but tonight…tonight she was in trousers.   
Cecily had to hand it to Mariah. Her faithful friend had done a superb job digging up a man’s clothing and within an hour dressed Cecily up so she could easily pass as a young street boy. Well, she thought as she eyed her still very clearly feminine face from underneath her hat. At least it’s dark out.   
“Are you quite comfortable? Or shall I loosen the bindings?” Mariah asked.   
“No, I’ll be alright. The bindings are certainly necessary and I should not like to be found out because they came loose.” Cecily attempted a light-hearted laugh but couldn’t take a large enough breath for it. Truth be told, it wasn’t at all comfortable having her breasts squashed down until they were practically flat. However, as she told Mariah, it was completely necessary since her bosom (though not excessive) was not lacking at all.   
“You shouldn’t joke about such things,” Mariah chided her. “If you’re caught-”  
“It won’t end well for me.” Cecily finished. “I know. Don’t worry, Mariah. I’ll be fine. I only have to make it across the Hudson and Caleb will be waiting for me on the other side. I’ll only be alone for a short while.”  
“Yes, but that short while includes all of the checkpoints.” Mariah pointed out.  
“Which is why I wrote this pass.” Cecily waved the piece of paper with her signature and her father’s seal. She had written it for herself from herself, to “give passage to this young man running an errand for me”.   
Mariah did not look convinced. “You’re sure it will work?”  
“I see no reason why it wouldn’t.” she replied. “Any upstanding British officer would hardly question the agenda of the daughter of a British lord.”  
Mariah only narrowed her eyes. “I hope you’re right. I’ll have you know I don’t like this though. I don’t like this one bit and I’ll be in a panic the whole time.”  
“I know, and I’m sorry to worry you but you know why I have to do this.” Cecily placed a hand on her shoulder, willing her friend to understand.   
“I know.” Mariah said with a sigh.   
“You remember what you’re to do?” Cecily wanted to verify.  
“If anyone asks, you’re incapacitated and do not wish to be disturbed.”  
“And…”  
“And if there is further inquiry I am to say that it is due to your monthly time and calling a doctor will not be necessary. You just want to be let be for a while.”  
Cecily nodded. “Very good. And if that isn’t enough to send any man running in the opposite direction I don’t know what is.”  
Mariah chuckled. “You’re a crafty little devil, I’ll give you that.”  
“A crafty little devil in trousers. The distinction is important.”  
Her companion rolled her eyes. “Lord help me…if your father saw you in those…”  
“Thank heavens he won’t.” Was Cecily’s response. However, she was more interested with how another person would react. Good Lord, what was Ben going to do with her in trousers? The very idea made her blush.   
Mariah tsked her. “Child, if you keep daydreaming about that man you’re not going to make it ten feet out the door before you’ve swooned your way into a puddle.”  
Cecily shot her a look. “Sometimes I hate that you can see right through me.”  
“Don’t hate me because I’ve known you for practically your whole life.” Mariah countered, adjusting Cecily’s hat to make sure all her hair was still safely pinned up under it. It had been a challenge taming her thick long locks but as with everything else, Mariah had done a lovely job. Though the real test would be if it worked to get her past the check points.   
“Are you ready?” Mariah asked her, holding out her overcoat.   
“As ready as I’ll ever be.” Cecily reached for it and slipped her arms through the slightly too big sleeves. It was heavy but necessary, as the still wintery weather was making the outside conditions frosty. Cecily wondered if spring would ever come and had placed her hopes in April to finally bring warmer temperatures.   
Following the plan that they had laid out, Mariah led Cecily through the house, using the servant’s passages to avoid detection. Cecily herself wasn’t too concerned about being discovered by anyone except Major Andre, whom she was certain would see right through the disguise, however good a job Mariah had done fabricating it.   
Thankfully, they made it down safely to the kitchen and Mariah ushered her through the back door.   
“Alright, I think I can take it from here.” Cecily told her, checking her inside coat pocket once more to be sure she had the letter.   
“I don’t like this.” Mariah said again. Her expression appeared to be permanently contorted into a frown of discontent.   
“At least you’re not the one who has to get past the checkpoints.”  
“No one is forcing you to do this.”  
“I’m forcing myself. I must do this. No, I want to do this.” Cecily corrected herself, steeling her nerves as she looked out onto the darkened city streets.   
“You’re sure I can’t come with you as far as the river?” Mariah asked, her frown melding into an expression of deep concern.   
Cecily shook her head. “No, I need you here playing out our cover story and making sure my absence is not discovered. That is imperative. I can make it to the river alright.”  
Mariah was clearly still skeptical but she didn’t say anything. Cecily leaned in and hugged her. “I’ll be back by dawn.”  
“I’ll be holding you to that.”  
Gathering her coat around her and taking hold of the courage in her heart, Cecily set off into the night. 

***

The crisp night air helped to keep Cecily alert and aware of her surroundings as she trekked through the city streets. She made sure to keep to the shadows and follow the route Mariah had given her to avoid most of the patrols. To her great good fortune, it worked and she made it through the city only having to cross paths with one. Cecily merged into the shadows to conceal herself as the four-man troop marched by.   
They didn’t as much as glance in her general direction.   
Letting out a shaky breath she hurried the rest of the way to the docks. The redcoat regular posted was dozing off, leaning against his musket and startled to attention when she walked up.  
“Who goes there?” He demanded, pointing his gun at her. Cecily squelched the panic that arose within her at having a bayonet aimed at her chest. “State your name and business.”  
“Tom, sir,” Cecily told him, schooling her tone to mimic that of a young boy. “I come from Dartmore house, sent by Lady Dartmore to deliver a letter to a family member on Long Island.”  
“It’s a bit late for that, boy.”  
“I have a pass here, sir. And the letter, if you need to make sure everything is all proper, like.”  
“Give them here, son.” The redcoat ordered, shouldering his musket so he could take the papers. Cecily stood frozen, silently praying her letters would work. After a nerve-wracking few seconds, the regular shoved them back at her.   
“Well, that’s the Dartmore seal alright. But I still don’t understand why this little trip couldn’t wait until the morning. It’s nearly ten.”  
“She insisted it was very urgent sir. Oh, please let me through, sir. I would hate to make Lady Dartmore cross. She may tell Lord Dartmore!”  
The solider narrowed his eyes and watched her for a moment. Cecily held her breath, praying her dramatic pleas didn’t sound too ludicrous to believe. Finally, he said. “Oh, alright. I don’t see no harm in it. At least you have the proper papers. You just be sure to tell Lady Dartmore to try and make her deliveries during the waking hours in future.”  
“Oh, thank you sir! Certainly, sir!” Cecily cringed internally and wanted to hit herself. Just how many times was the word ‘sir’ necessary? She was fairly certain she had overdone it.   
He grunted. “That’s enough of that. Climb aboard, son.”  
Cecily, with trembling limbs, clamored on the ferry, quickly taking a seat on a small crate. It had actually worked. Beneath her utter relief was acute shock. A part of her hadn’t expected it to go this well.  
They both sat in silence for the journey across and Cecily was glad of it. She wasn’t sure her nerves could handle much more conversation. When they made it to the other side she had to stop herself from leaping out and bolting into the woods. Nimbly stepping onto the shore, she turned to thank the regular.  
“You’ll be alright then, son?” He asked, seemingly genuine concern in his tone.   
Cecily felt a pang of affection. He really was a nice man, even if he was on the wrong side. Although she suspected he would feel the same way about her if he knew.   
“Yes sir. I’ll be fine. Thank you again!” Without waiting for a response, Cecily waved and darted off. She jogged far enough away so she knew she was out of his line of sight and then crouched behind a bush to wait. The regular waited only a moment and then pushed off, quickly disappearing on the dark river.   
Heart pounding in her ears, Cecily slowly stood and turned to look around the dimly lighted woods surrounding her. How on earth was she going to find Caleb in this place?  
“Caleb?” She called out, and in the silence remembered that he had told her to say something so that he would know it was her.   
“Caleb, where are you? If you don’t come out here right this instant, I’ll tell Ben it was you who stole his favorite toy soldiers when we were little!”  
“You wouldn’t dare.” Came a reply from behind her, making her jump. Cecily spun around to see Caleb stepping out from behind a tree. He looked exactly the way she remembered him, save for the scruffier beard. “Because if you do, I’ll tell him that on your fourteenth birthday you made a wish that he’d kiss you in the moonlight at midnight.”  
Her mouth dropped open. “You have no grounds to support that claim!”  
“Sure I do. Next time you make such a scandalous wish, I wouldn’t say it aloud, Cissy.” Caleb returned with a wink.   
“I would slap you for such pretentious talk…and for infringing on my privacy. But I’m just so happy to see you I think that will have to wait.”  
“Well then, what are you waiting for, eh? Get your little trouser clad arse over here.” Said Caleb, spreading his arms wide.   
A smile splitting her face, Cecily rushed forward into his arms. Caleb returned her enthusiasm with a crushing bear hug that lifted her clean off the ground. She giggled as he spun her around in a circle before lowering her back down to her feet. Going to pull back, Cecily gasped when he refused and crushed her back to him.   
“I’ve missed you, ya little vixen.” He told her.  
“I’ve missed you too, you big oaf. Now let me go…I can’t breathe!” She squeaked out at the end. Caleb released her and as soon as she recovered, Cecily swatted his arm. Hard.   
“Ouch,” he eyed her warily. “What was that for?”  
“For spying on me. I told you I was going to slap you.”  
Caleb grinned. “I s’ppose you did.”  
She hit him again.  
“What in the bloody hell was that one for?!” He demanded.  
“That was for almost crushing me to death. Now, are you going to stop gaping at me like a codfish and take me to Ben so we can all talk?” Cecily inquired, eyeing Caleb’s speechless expression.   
He stared at her for a few moments and then busted out into laughter. “My I’ve missed that sharp tongue of yours. I wonder though, have you been kissing anyone with that mouth?”  
Her cheeks flushed hot. “Caleb Brewster…I ought to-”  
“I suppose you haven’t been though, huh?” He interrupted. “You’re one true love is back at camp.” Caleb winked at her.   
Cecily gasped. “Caleb!”  
He did a little jig to move far enough away from her to avoid being struck again, laughing all the while. “Come on you. Horses are just over here.”  
Cecily glared at him and let out an indignant huff, before stalking past him. Caleb was still chuckling as he followed her. True to his word, there were two horses waiting in the next clearing; a dark bay and a brightly colored sorrel with a white blaze.   
“The sorrel is for you,” Caleb said, nudging her with his elbow as he came up next to stand beside her. “One fiery red head for another.”  
Cecily turned and stuck her tongue out at him. Caleb let out a boisterous laugh and winked at her before swinging up onto the bay’s saddle. Cecily approached her horse and glared up at him. “In polite society a gentleman helps a lady on her horse before mounting his own.”  
The skin around Caleb’s eyes crinkled as he grinned. “In polite society, ladies don’t usually go around wearing trousers.”   
Cecily was unable to hold back a smile and Caleb’s grew as her own spread. “Touché.” She replied before gracefully swinging herself into the saddle. It was tremendously easier to mount with the said trousers instead of a dress.   
Situating herself so she sat securely on her mount, Cecily turned to look at Caleb. “Lead on, Mister Brewster.”  
“Right this way, Miss Dartmore.” He told her with a wink. “Keep up if you can.” With that, Caleb turned his horse on the haunches and took off onto the road. Cecily laughed and dug her heels into her horse’s sides, starting after him at a full gallop.   
The last time Cecily had been on a horse was back in Setauket. During her summers there, she and Ben used to go out for rides at least once a week; sometimes with the others, but more often than not it was just the two of them. Cecily used to look forward to their outings immensely and as she and Caleb galloped through the dense woods she was reminded of one particular time, five years prior. 

“Hurry up slowpoke!” Cecily yelled as she turned around in the saddle to glance at Ben, who was several lengths behind her and her chestnut mare, Felicity. Taking the risk of not looking where she was going for another few seconds, Cecily took advantage of the wonderful view of Ben charging up the hill on his valiant gray steed like a knight in shining armor. She had to quickly look away though, lest she be caught swooning off her mount and landing in a none too graceful heap on the ground.  
As soon as she regained her forward position, Cecily realized her mistake when Ben came surging up beside her. She had unintentionally slowed her horse when she had taken the time to admire her companions figure. He flashed her a wicked grin as he started to pass her. “Careful Cecily, don’t get distracted.”  
Her eyes widened and Ben laughed as he overtook her lead by two strides. Curse him, she thought. Curse him for being so ridiculously good looking. Then she also silently cursed herself for being affected by him.   
“Now who’s the slowpoke?!” Ben hollered back at her. Cecily couldn’t help but smile, especially when a brilliant idea popped into her head.   
Slowing Felicity up just slightly, Cecily swung her leg over the saddle and dismounted while her horse was running; shrieking as her feet hit the ground, she toppled over into the grass and lay still.   
A split second later she heard Ben’s frantic voice, “Cecily!”   
Stifling a smile, she closed her eyes when she heard the pounding hoof beats of Ben’s horse as he came charging back to her. He was going to kill her for playing possum on him, but she couldn’t resist.   
“Cecily!” There was a slight thump as he presumably jumped from the saddle and a moment later she felt his hands on her face. “Cecily? Oh, God. Cecily, can you hear me? Please…please answer me Cecily.” His thumb brushed over her cheek and it took everything in Cecily not to shiver at the sensation.   
“Shite,” Ben cursed. “Cecily, please…” It was in that moment that she figured he had been tortured enough. Snapping her eyes open, she giggled as Ben’s own eyes widened and he jumped. The expression on his face was enough to send her into a bout of uncontrollable laughter.   
“Dammit Cecily! I can’t believe you!” Ben exclaimed and she only laughed harder. “Oh, you think this is funny, do you?” He challenged. “Do you have any idea how worried I was? Don’t you dare ever do that again!”  
She tried to school her expression into that of seriousness. “Did I really worry you that badly?”  
“Worry me?” He scoffed. “You scared the hell out of me! What were you thinking?”  
“It was the only thing I could think to do to keep you from beating me.”   
Ben gaped at her. “You risked your neck to make certain I wouldn’t win?”  
She giggled. “Well, I didn’t really risk anything. I didn’t fall off…just dismounted while in motion.”  
Now Ben was shaking his head at her in disbelief though she could see he was trying (and failing miserably) not to smile. “That was so incredible reckless Cecily!” He attempted a chastising tone but failed at that as well.   
“I wasn’t about to sit back and take second place lying down.” She told him.   
“I think you may be the most competitive person I have ever known.” Ben replied, a smile gracing his handsome face.   
“Even Caleb?” She challenged.  
He laughed and the sound shot through Cecily, warming her to the core. “Let’s say it depends on the day then. Most times I do believe you can top even him.”  
Cecily smirked up at him. “You love it.”  
Their eyes met then and Cecily felt her herself get snagged and held by his gaze. In an instant she was drowning in those cerulean depths that seemed to look directly into her very soul and pull out her deepest secrets. She couldn’t look away.   
Suddenly, and with a slight start, Cecily realized that she and Ben had somehow leaned in closer. Their faces were mere inches apart; the distance seemingly scanter based on the pure heat that was surging through her veins. Ben seemed to realize this almost simultaneously and the smile slowly slipped from his face, replaced by an expression that startled Cecily more than their closeness. It was such a soft look, filled with an almost tangible amount of tenderness and affection. She would have been lying to herself if she pretended she didn’t recognize it, because she did; she had seen it several times before.   
It was the way Abraham looked at Anna.   
This recognition filled her with both excitement and slight trepidation. Ben had never looked at her like this before. Not in all their years together. Cecily always knew he felt deep affection for her but she had been in love with him for so long that she had all but given up on the hope that he might reciprocate those feelings.   
Now she felt that hope flare up inside of her as he lifted a hand to brush back a lock of her hair. Ben’s fingers lingered on her cheek and Cecily had to resist the urge to lean into his hand. She simply continued to stare back at him, at a complete loss for words.   
“I do.” Ben said simply and it took Cecily a moment to realize that he was answering her previous statement.   
“Well,” she managed. “That’s a relief.”  
Ben gave her a sweet smile and his eyes fluttered shut as he heaved a great sigh, like he was in some great pain or internal struggle. Cecily felt her breath lodge in her throat as his head dipped down to her. This is it, she thought. He’s finally going to kiss me.   
However, at the last second Ben dipped his chin and pressed his forehead against hers. Cecily’s eyelids closed and she took the opportunity to absorb his closeness, allowing her hand to ghost up his chest and rest against the side of his face, mirroring his position with her. Ben shivered and Cecily felt as if she could burst; knowing that her touch did that to him.   
After what felt like a lifetime and also not nearly long enough, Ben lifted his head to plant a chaste kiss on her forehead before pushing off her. Ever the gentlemen, as soon as he rose to his feet Ben offered her his hand.   
“We’d better go and see where Felicity and Patriot ran off to.” He said.   
Cecily smiled and took his hand, allowing Ben to haul her to her feet. They only ever called Patriot by his real name when they were away from the town, lest they all be discovered as patriots. Instead, Ben’s horse was known as Patty.   
“They’re probably down by our regular picnicking spot. Lord knows the place is virtually a second home to them.” She replied.   
“You’re probably right,” said Ben.  
They walked side by side for a while in silence. Normally, she and Ben could go for hours not speaking at all without it being awkward, but that day had been different. After a few minutes, Cecily had to break it.   
“I wonder why none of the others wanted to join us today.”   
Ben sighed. “Well, Caleb is off shooting ducks by the pond and Abe is too busy chasing after Anna like a devoted puppy. Turns out all of those past times are much more interesting than our company.”  
“It’s their loss then.” Cecily replied smugly.   
“Agreed,” he had smiled then, and surprised her when he reached out to touch her cheek. “But I for one am glad I don’t have to share. As selfish as that may make me.”  
Cecily had stood there completely dumbfounded as Ben merely smiled and set off towards their small everglade.  
“Cecily! Do you plan on riding on to Pennsylvania tonight?” Caleb’s shout jerked Cecily out of her memory.   
“WHOA!” She pulled her horse up and turned back to where Caleb had slowed down several paces behind her.   
“Sorry,” she said, trotting over to him.   
“No harm done. Just gave me a bit of a start, is all. Was wondering if there was a bit you forgot to tell me about.”   
“No, I was just daydreaming.”  
“No doubt who about.” Caleb replied with a wink.   
Cecily gaped at him and he just laughed. “C’mon missy, camp is right over here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Whoa. Okay, so I am very sorry for the late update. I will try to do better!   
> First note: I want to address the whole issue of Cecily traveling through the checkpoints. I understand if it doesn't seem likely, but for the sake of the story it had to be.  
> Second note: The next chapter should be even more fun because we are finally getting to the meat and potatoes of the fic. Ben and Cecily will be reunited at last! <3   
> Final note: Once again, a huge thank you to my co-author Robin Goodly and of course to everyone who has been following "The Silver Spy". I appreciate any and all feedback! 
> 
> Psych! One more thing...the translation for the chapter "iter nocte" is "night journey"


	6. Cor ad Cor Loquitur

Cor ad Cor Loquitur

The Continental Army’s camp shone with the light of thousand fires. Or at least, that was what it looked like to Cecily as she and Caleb rode up. Boisterous male laughter could be heard reverberating through the tents as soldiers made merry about their recent victories at Princeton and Trenton.   
Caleb led Cecily around the outskirts, clearly not overly keen on parading her through the heart of camp, no matter how clever her disguise.   
“Can’t let you be seen by any of the men.” Caleb said, as if reading her mind. “Those trousers are too damn fancy. They’ll give you away in an instant.”  
She rolled her eyes. “Oh, of course. That’s what will give me away.”  
Ignoring her, Caleb steered them behind a barn and dismounted. Cecily followed suit and they tethered their horses before Caleb ushered her inside, shutting the door behind them. The interior was pitch black. Cecily could barely see the piles of hay in front of her.   
“Now, you wait here and I’ll go get our friend Tallboy.” Caleb told her.  
“Sit, Cecily. Stay, Cecily. What am I, a dog?” She muttered to herself.   
“What was that?” Caleb turned back at the door.   
“Nothing. Just go get Ben. I have a schedule to keep you know,” she said tartly.   
“Well, excuse me your ladyship. I’ll just get my peasant arse moving then.”  
Cecily stuck her tongue out at him and Caleb winked before disappearing into the night. She could hear his hearty chuckle as he walked away. Cecily heaved a sigh and turned to take in her surroundings. Now that her eyes had adjusted to the dark she could clearly see that straw was not the main object occupying its space. Barrels and crates were stacked in every corner, sometimes haphazardly so. Cecily presumed they were weapons; guns in the crates and gunpowder in the barrels but she couldn’t be sure. There was also a large, oddly shaped thing covered with a worn, gray tarp, tucked in a far corner. From the small amount of it that was exposed it appeared to be made of wood and had a roundish shape.   
Cecily squinted at it and took a step forward, curious. It was then that the barn door creaked as it opened and yellow light from a lantern flooded inside. Cecily jumped like a scalded cat and quickly retreated to the shadows. She had to be sure it was Caleb and Ben before revealing herself. It would not bode well if she were to be discovered by anyone else.   
Then she heard him.   
“Caleb, are you going to tell me what in God’s name is going on?”  
Cecily felt her heart jump inside her chest because it was his voice and she had not heard it in so long. She had almost forgotten how it made her feel inside when he spoke for her memories did the sensation no justice.   
“Patience, Tallboy, is a virtue.” Was Caleb’s cheerful reply.  
She heard Ben snort. “I wasn’t aware you knew the virtues…” he trailed off as the light fell upon Cecily. They both froze, bodies stiffening. Cecily tried to calm her racing heart but could not…because this was Ben. Her Ben whom she would know anywhere. He had the same tall, strong build. High cheekbones helped frame the most amazingly clear blue eyes that held (and always had held) such intelligence, kindness, and compassion. His dark blonde hair was pulled back from his face and tied in a braid at the nape of his neck. However, Cecily knew that a piece of it would fall forward into his face if he was at all rumpled. It was a part of his appearance that she had always found particularly endearing. Last of all, Cecily saw with a surge of pride his blue Continental uniform.   
“What is this?” Ben demanded, looking to Caleb. It was then that Cecily realized that she had yet to reveal her true identity to him. In the darkness and under her hat, Ben must have thought that she was a country lad and wondering what she, or rather he, was doing in there staring so intently at him.  
Reaching up, she pulled her hat off and her long braid fell free, resting over her shoulder like a rope. “Hello, Benjamin.” She said, her voice slightly uneven from emotion.   
Ben’s eyes went wide and he sucked in a sharp breath, his expression going from confusion to shock. “What on earth…” He breathed. “I don’t believe my eyes…”  
Caleb was looking between the two, a positively gleeful smile on his face. “You better start believing Tallboy. She’s really ‘ere.”  
“Cecily?” Ben sounded dubiously hopeful, as if he were unsure of whether he was seeing clearly or if she was a mirage.   
She nodded and choked out, “Ben.”  
He took a step towards her and that was all the encouragement Cecily needed. She flung herself forward and into his arms, burying her face in his chest. Ben’s arms came up around her instantly and held her tightly to him, causing her to relax fully into his embrace. It seemed she had also forgotten how wonderful it felt to be in his arms. How safe and at home she was in them.   
“Awww…how sweet you two are.” Came Caleb’s taunting voice from behind them. Since they both routinely ignored him on a regular basis, this was no different.   
“I missed you.” Cecily murmured into Ben’s chest, her voice muffled. She felt him press his face into her hair and breathe deeply.   
“I missed you too…” He replied, and then squeezed her tighter, as if he was afraid she would slip through his grasp. “So much. What…what are you even doing here?”  
“I came to find you.” Cecily told him, still muffled for she was still unwilling to break away. Ben however, made the decision for her, pulling back to look her in the eye, his gaze questioning.  
“Is everything alright?” He asked, and Cecily got even warmer inside at hearing the protectiveness in his voice and seeing its genuineness in his eyes.   
Before she could answer Ben’s gaze slipped down and his eyes widened again, finally registering her attire. “Good God. Cecily…why are you wearing trousers?”  
She smirked at him. “Well, I could hardly slip through York City wearing a dress. I had to disguise myself in order to get past the guards and rendezvous with Caleb once I made it across the river.”   
Ben whirled on Caleb and proceeded to look back and forth between him and Cecily. “Caleb, how could you allow her to do this? Do either of you have any idea of how dangerous it was…of what would have happened if you were caught?” His blue eyes were blazing and Cecily could feel agitation rolling off him.  
“Well, that’s just it,” Caleb chimed in. “We didn’t get caught, now did we?”  
Ben's face flushed with anger. Cecily didn’t think she had ever seen him this mad as he stalked to Caleb, getting up in his face. “You are treading on a narrow line right now, Brewster. And I would not make such flippant statements while you are, if I were you. You brought her here. You put her in harm’s way.”   
Caleb’s brows shot up and he whistled. “Would you listen to you?” He glanced over at Cecily. “Are you listening to him? It seems like our Benny Boy has finally grown into himself…if you know what I mean…” Caleb waggled his eyebrows suggestively.   
Ben snarled, actually snarled in response. Cecily quickly put herself between the two men, afraid of letting the situation escalate further (especially since Ben, who was always the calm one, looked as if he was about to fly off the handle at any moment). She put her hands on Ben’s chest and looked up at him, forcing him to meet her eyes.   
“Alright, calm down.” She said. “We don’t need to draw attention to ourselves, do we?”  
Ben (who had brought himself back down as soon as Cecily had touched him), still had a skeptical expression on his face, his mouth twisted in a frown.   
“One of you had better tell me what is going on.” Ben stated eventually.   
“That will have to be Miss Cissy here. Because I’m nearly as clueless as you.” Said Caleb, looking far too entertained, as per usual.   
Ben’s frown deepened in confusion. “Wait, you don’t know?”  
Caleb shook his head. “Little Miss Secrets over ‘ere insisted on a meeting in person, saying whatever it was, was too important to enclose in a letter.”  
Ben looked back at Cecily, his anger slowing ebbing away, being replaced by concern again. “Cecily, are you sure you’re alright? Has something happened?”   
She smiled. “Many things have happened, Benjamin. It’s been five years. I am fine, though. Don’t worry so much. You have a great many more important things to fret over regarding this war.”  
“Yes, but nothing could be more important than you. I am glad to hear you are alright.” Ben touched her face affectionately and their eyes locked and held for a moment too long.  
Caleb cleared his throat. “S’cuse me, sorry to break whatever moment you two’re having right now because believe me, it’s touching, it really is. However, I for one am real anxious to hear what you wanted to talk to us about, Cissy.”  
His interjection successfully broke whatever spell she and Ben had been under and Ben blinked a few times. “Of course. What was it you wanted to say, Cecily?”  
She a deep breath. “Alright, I’ll not beat around the bush, lest my main point be overlooked. The fact is gentlemen, is that Major John Andre of the British army is stationed in my father’s house.”  
Ben and Caleb shared a stunned silence. It was Caleb who broke it first. “Well, that’s nothing new. Loads of hoighty toighty lobsters are staying with high class loyalist families.”  
“Yes, but this hoighty toighty lobster happens to be the Head of British Intelligence.” Cecily replied, lowering her voice slightly.   
There was no mistaking the sudden interest in her friends’ eyes but both quickly covered it back up. Ben spoke this time. “What do you mean by that?”  
“It means he runs the British spies.”  
“I think what Benny Boy here is asking, is of what interest is that to us?” Caleb tried.   
Cecily rolled her eyes. “Honestly, boys. Don’t be dense. I know very well this is of great interest to you and whatever Continental spy ring you have.”  
“I…I’m not sure I know what you mean, Cecily.” Ben was averting his eyes from her, which further confirmed her suspicions. He could never lie while making eye contact.   
“Oh, so you aren’t running a spy ring out of Setauket?” Cecily challenged.   
Ben went rigid. “How…?”  
“At dinner with Andre the other night he let it slip that a group of rebel spies have managed to obtain British intelligence which enabled them to foil several plots made by the British and earned a few American victories. Upon further inquiry, he divulged to me that the origin is suspected to be Setauket. Of course, from that it didn’t take long for me to figure the probability of it being you. With your position in the Continental Army,” she nodded to Ben. “And your ability to travel anywhere without detection,” Cecily gestured to Caleb. “Added to Setauket’s ideal position on the water with several friends there to gather information…well, it is the perfect situation.”   
Both men had gone completely silent and were looking at her with wide eyes. Cecily tried to tone down what she knew must have been an extremely smug expression on her face. “Do you deny it?”  
“I…” Ben looked completely flabbergasted.   
Caleb sighed. “I think she’s got us, Benny Boy.”  
Ben blinked at him. “Caleb-”  
“It would do no good denying it now,” Caleb continued. “Besides, Cissy ain’t going to tell anyone.”  
“No, I have no doubt this will be kept in confidence,” Ben looked at Cecily. “I must say I am very impressed with your reasoning. Though, I am also still unsure of what it is exactly, you are leading up to with this.”  
Cecily smiled at him. “Haven’t you figured it out yet? You are running a network of spies to gather enemy intelligence and the head of enemy intelligence is currently residing in my house.”  
Ben’s eyes widened as what she was insinuating seemed to sink in fully. He shook his head, looking distressed. “No, absolutely not, Cecily. Of all the mad, ridiculous-”  
“Now hold a minute, Tallboy.” Caleb interceded. “This may not be a bad idea.”  
“Stay out of this, Brewster.” Ben’s voice was low, deadly.   
“Listen here, you,” said Caleb. “First, this isn’t between just the two of you, so don’t start with me. And second, Cecily has the makings of a solid plan here. ‘Sides, we do need someone in York City.”   
Eye’s flashing murderously, Ben glared at him. Cecily could feel the anger rising in him again, rolling off him in waves.   
“Yes,” he conceded. “But not-”  
“A woman?” Cecily challenged, feeling herself get mildly annoyed. Surely Ben wasn’t suggesting she wasn’t capable. He had never been the type to stand behind the conventional belief that woman were not as well-suited as men for jobs requiring more vigorous cognitive function.   
Ben flushed and got even more flustered. “What? No, of course not! Cecily-” he broke off with a sigh and ran a hand over his face. He looked her directly in the eye. “Cecily, I know you are more than capable to do this. Hell, you will probably do a better job than most, male or female.”  
Cecily’s annoyance dissipated like the remnants of morning dew on a hot summer’s day. Reaching down to clasp Ben’s hand in hers she said, “then what on earth is the problem?”  
Closing his eyes, Ben squeezed her hand in his and gently ran his thumb over her knuckles, eliciting a shiver she hoped he didn’t notice. “Because…” he started, sounding bone weary. “I don’t want you to get hurt.”  
Oh, how those eight simple words reached down, deep into her soul and touched her heart like nothing else could. She had to resist throwing her arms around him and instead smiled and said, “In my own house? Ben…that’s the beauty of this situation. There is minimal risk because all I have to do is look and listen in my home; gathering information without arising suspicion.”  
“What if something were to happen? What if something goes wrong?” Ben countered, still not convinced.   
“Nothing is going to happen,” Cecily stated firmly. “And nothing is going to go wrong. I know how to handle myself perfectly well.”  
She winked at him and Ben failed terribly at trying not to smile. The one that spread across his face and lit up his eyes was so breathtaking that it made Cecily’s chest clench.   
“There can be no denying that,” he said, gazing at her with an overwhelming amount of affection.  
“And Lord help the poor bastard that forgets it.” Caleb piped in, also grinning. Then he grew serious again, continuing. “It’s a good plan, Ben. I think it would be foolish of us to pass it up. I’m going to have to side with Cecily on this one.”  
Ben looked back and forth, between the two of them. “Unbelievable,” he said, sounding incredulous. “Not even an hour back together and you two are ganging up on me again.”  
“What are friends for? It’s our job to harass ya.” Replied Caleb, clapping Ben on the back. All he received back was a glare.   
Cecily giggled. “He’s right you know,” she told Ben, reaching up to adjust his coat, unable to help herself from touching him. “And you needn’t pout over it. It’s not very becoming for an officer in the Continental Army.”  
“And not just an officer, but a Major.” Caleb threw in. Major? Cecily gave a start. That was new. Although she really shouldn’t be surprised. Whenever Ben applied himself to something he excelled, so she could only imagine how quickly he soared through the ranks of the Continentals.   
Ben, however, proceeded as if Caleb hadn’t spoken, smiling down at Cecily; his crooked grin making her insides flutter yet again. “Is that so, Miss Dartmore?” He asked playfully.   
“Most assuredly, Major.” She teased.   
“Well, I hope you might accept my most sincere apologies if I caused any offense.” Ben stated, continuing their little act.   
“Hmm…” she started, contemplatively. “I suppose I might be inclined to forgive you…”  
“I sense an ‘if’ or a ‘but’ in there somewhere.” He said, that swoon-worthy smirk back on his face.   
“Of course,” she said, reaching around to tug his braid. “You’ll have to appease me somehow.”  
“And what, pray tell, would you have me do?”  
Caleb let out a bark of laughter. “Careful there, Tallboy. Those words could be taken in a multitude of ways.”  
Ben’s cheeks flushed a deep red and to save him from more embarrassment, Cecily did what she had yearning to do since he broke their first embrace. Wrapping her arms around his waist she placed her head on his chest again. Automatically, Ben returned the gesture and she suppressed a sigh when she felt his hands on her back.   
“Aww c’mon you two…get a tent!” Caleb exclaimed, though Cecily could hear the humor that laced his tone.  
“Oh, come off it Brewster.” Ben grumbled, then lowered his head and added with a quieter tone, “What’s this for?”  
She tilted her head back to look him in the eye. “My payment.”  
Ben arched a brow. “A hug is payment for you? Well, then I shall have to endeavor to be in your debt more often.”  
Cecily felt her cheeks flush at his words.  
“You two are ridiculous. It’s like nothing had changed from when we were kids.” Said Caleb, rolling his eyes.   
“A lot has changed,” Ben replied, and Cecily tried not to dwell on the fact that he kept a hand at her waist, even though they were no longer embracing. “Our friendship is not a part of that change.”  
Cecily felt a confusing combination of affection towards Ben and hurt at him referring to their relationship as a friendship. However, she carefully pushed down her feeling and said, “Well, it will change a bit now that we’re all going to be spying together: you, me, Caleb, Abraham, and I am almost certain Anna is involved as well.”  
Caleb whistled. “We can’t hide anything from this one, eh Tallboy?”  
“So it may seem,” said Ben. “I’ll have you two know, I still don’t like this.”  
“We know,” replied Cecily. “But you’ll just have to accept it.”  
Ben sighed in defeat and Cecily bit back a squeal. She looked at Caleb who jumped up in the air to let out a loud ‘whoop’ of excitement. “Shhhhhh…” she and Ben hushed him, their eyes wide. Caleb stopped and clapped a hand over his mouth. “Oops,” he said and looked so sheepish that she and Ben broke out into snickers, trying desperately to stay quiet.   
Caleb chuckled. “Alright, I’m gonna run and grab some stuff we’ll need to brief Cissy with if she’s going to start spying.”   
He turned on his heel, a spring in his step and Cecily heard him break into a bawdy tune that sounded suspiciously made up. A laugh bubbled up and escaped her lips causing Cecily to mirror Caleb’s earlier position, slapping a hand over her mouth. Raising her eyes to meet Ben’s she startled to see that he was no longer laughing; instead he was watching her with an unreadable expression on his face. She sauntered over to him.   
“What?” Cecily demanded, looking up at him.   
“I don’t like this.”   
“You’ve already said that.” She replied, incredulous.   
“It seemed worth repeating.”  
Cecily sighed and brought her hands up to rest on his shoulders. “It’s still not going to change anything.”  
He smiled at her and cupped her cheek with his hand. “I know.”  
She smiled in return and closed her eyes. A moment later, Ben raised his other hand so he was cradling her face in his palms. He leaned forward and rested his forehead against hers. “I am glad you’re here, though. I know I shouldn’t be. Lord knows it was so incredibly foolish and reckless for you to travel here but I can’t…” he sighed. “I cannot deny my overwhelming happiness from seeing you.”   
Cecily smiled. “And here I thought you wouldn’t be pleased to see me.”  
Ben pulled back and looked her in the eyes, a horrified expression on his handsome face. “How on earth could I ever be displeased to see you? Shocked, yes. But not pleased? Never.”   
“Well, that is a relief.” She told him. The two of them went on to speak of old times for a while, until Caleb came back and they proceeded to show Cecily how to collect and send information to them properly. Ben explained how each of her messages must be encrypted so that when she sent it to Abraham it wouldn’t be detected. Then Abraham would put it in their drop where Caleb would act as courier and take it to Ben, who would then relay it to Washington. As she listened, it hit Cecily how ingenious the whole operation was. She knew Ben was the main mastermind behind it and she couldn’t suppress the rush of pride towards him.  
When they finished, Ben took a deep breath. “That’s really all we have worked out right now. I am certain things will change as our methods develop but for now, this will have to do. Do you understand how everything works? Caleb wrote down the most important codes but we don’t have another copy of the codebook. I suppose I can try and get one to you-”  
“Benjamin,” Cecily interrupted. “I’ll be fine. Don’t kill yourself over trying to write an entire book.”   
“Besides…” Caleb drawled. “Let’s face it. Woody’ll need it more. He ain’t the sharpest cabbage farmer in the bushel, if ya know what I mean.”  
Cecily feigned offense. “Have a care how you speak! He is my cousin, you know.”  
With a wink, Caleb said, “Who says he’s not adopted?”  
Ben made a sound like he choked and Cecily merely smiled and shook her head. Leave it Caleb to turn everything into a joke.   
“Anyway,” continued Caleb. “We can only hope Woody’s new alias will protect him…Mr. Samuel Culpeper.”  
“It will,” replied Ben. “We’re never to refer to him by his true identity.”  
Caleb looked thoughtful. “You know…now that I come to think of…we really ought to pick out an alias for Cissy here, too.”   
“I suppose you are right,” said Cecily. “Ben?” She looked to him for input.   
He met her gaze and answered in all seriousness. “I’ll support anything that will help ensure your safety.”  
“Aww, isn’t that sweet. To get back on point though, I’d like to submit our first contender for Cissy’s alias.” Caleb gave a fiendish grin before saying, “Mrs. Bolton has a nice ring to it, don’t ya think?”  
“Caleb!” Ben admonished, his eyes widening in shock.  
“What?” Caleb feigned innocence. “I thought you’d be jumping for joy at that suggestion Tallboy.”  
Ben turned absolutely crimson. Cecily looked between the two men as if they were engaged in a heated chess match, feeling very confused indeed.   
“I don’t understand,” she said. “Why is my alias being Mrs. Bolton so seemingly abhorrent to you?” this was directed at Ben.   
His eyes met hers and he sighed. “It’s not that…it’s just…”  
“John Bolton is Benny Boy’s alias.” Caleb interrupted.   
If Cecily had thought Ben was red she must have been completely scarlet at that moment. Her cheeks burned as if fire was being held to them.   
“Oh.” She managed, averting her eyes from the both of them; or more specifically Ben, who appeared to be doing very much of the same to her.   
“Caleb is just having a go at us. Don’t let him get to you Cecily.” Said Ben, still not looking at her.   
“Hey, I just think you two should be joined in one way, even if it’s under a false name.” Caleb paused before adding, slightly under his breath. “Since you’re both too bloody stubborn for anything else.”   
“That’s enough Caleb!” Cecily exclaimed, extreme embarrassment coursing through her. She suppressed it to continue. “I too agree that I should have an alias. However, I also think it is clear that I cannot go by a woman’s name.”  
Both men gave her confused looks. Cecily rolled her eyes. “Really, you two. You needn’t look so surprised. The reason as to why I cannot should be quite plain to you.”  
When they again said nothing and looked at her expectantly, Cecily sighed. “Very well, I suppose I shall have to spell it out for you. The very genius of my being a spy is contained in the truth of my gender. No man would suspect a woman of my standing of playing agent for the rebel cause. In order to keep up that façade is to make my identity known to be that of a man. Thus, diverting the attention of the enemy from myself and sending them looking in the completely wrong direction. This, consequently, will make my spying agenda easier as all suspicions will be turned away for good. What say you, gentlemen?”  
“I say fine.” Ben replied, with no hesitation. “I said it once and I’ll say it again. If it will help further ensure your safety, then I have no opposition.”  
Cecily turned her attention to Caleb then, who still hadn’t said anything on the matter and whose face reflected disappointment. “Well, that’s no fun at all,” he said. “I was keen on the alias Mistress of Death or The Dark Lady.”   
Cecily blinked rapidly and glanced over at Ben, who merely rolled his eyes and offered no further help aside from that.   
“But if you’re sure,” Caleb continued grudgingly. “We still have to pick a name. What are you thinking, Cissy? Ben?”  
There was several moments of silence as they all thought deeply on the matter; a matter of great importance for them all. In no other situation, Cecily presumed, would choosing a name be so critical.   
Finally, Ben broke the silence. “Argent.”  
Caleb and Cecily both looked at him. “What?” They asked in unison.  
“The alias of Mr. Argent.” Ben explained. “Surely you two remember…”  
“Argent Spring!” Cecily exclaimed, memories flooding back to her. Memories of a favorite romping ground of their group; a little spring nestled in the woods outside of Setauket. They had christened it Argent Spring because in the moonlight the water reflected an almost luminous silver. Ben, who had been studying Latin at the time, came up with the name from the Latin word argentum.  
“Aye, that’s right…” Caleb drawled, clearly remembering as well.   
“I like it,” Cecily announced. “Simple, yet only we will know the true meaning.”  
Ben nodded and Caleb made no objection. “What about a given name?” The former asked, his blue eyes turning back to her.   
“Gideon.” The name came to Cecily immediately as an obvious choice. Before either of her companions could inquire the reasoning behind her selecting it, she continued. “I had an uncle named Gideon. He died in the war in 76’.”   
“Mr. Gideon Argent it is.” Said Ben.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cor ad Cor Loquitur --> heart speaks to heart


	7. Sum Quod Eris

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yikes. Sorry for the late update again. Hope you all enjoy this next chapter. Things are certainly starting to pick up...

Sum Quod Eris

After the excitement of the crossing and meeting with Ben, Cecily's journey back was rather dull. She reached Dartmore House only an hour or two shy of dawn and felt a great weight lift off her shoulders at the sight of her home. She let out a breath she had not realized she had been holding; her shoulders relaxed their tense posture. A part of her was still reveling in what she had done. She kept replaying the conversation with Ben over in her head, flitting between trying to hold on to every touch and smile, and saying her new alias to herself: Gideon Argent.  
With her thoughts full of fluff and espionage, Cecily unwittingly cut across the back paddock towards the barns, following a short cut she often took when walking back from the town. She silently hoped that no servants would be out yet. It was still dark; she doubted anyone was even awake.  
But someone was. The moment she attained the smelly interior of the barn, warm from the body heat of the horses, she realized that in her carelessness she had almost given the game away.  
Major John Andre was standing right there.  
By some ridiculously good fortune he not only had his back to her but had been talking aloud. His rich voice masked the sound of her footsteps and Cecily just managed to catch the edge of the barn door before it slammed shut and announced her presence.  
Cecily hastily ducked behind a haybale to listen.  
"...add another barrel of that to the list while you're at it, Pelstone. We may need more, but hopefully the men won't go through it quite so quickly. We mustn't forget that we are in a war and must ration accordingly."  
"Very good, sir," the reserved voice of Major Andre's secretary, Pelstone, reached Cecily's ears. Pelstone was a curious fellow, somewhere between valet and quartermaster. Cecily had always had a sneaking suspicion that there was more to him than met the eye. He came up to the house nearly every day to speak to Andre about the day to day activities concerning the occupation.  
"I am expecting a guest today, as well, Pelstone. Make sure we have accomodations in the town for him and his men."  
"Any particular arrangements you would like me to make for them?"  
"They're Dragoons, they can probably sleep in the stables." This comment seemed to slip out before Major Andre could stop it. Cecily suspected that Pelstone would not take it seriously.  
"Your guest will not be at Dartmore House?"  
"No he will not," Andre said in a slightly steely tone.  
Whoever this guest is he seems to have the Major in a bit of a state. How intriguing. Cecily wondered who it could possibly be. After that the two men discussed nothing particularly interesting. Cecily didn't dare move until Andre and Pelstone finished their conversation and left the barn. She waited an extra five minutes after that before sneaking back into Dartmore House via the servant's entrance. Thankfully, the kitchen was a hustle and bustle of activity as the cook and kitchen maids flitted about getting breakfast prepared, and Cecily was able to cling to the sidelines and slip up the back staircase to the bedrooms.  
Once she attainted the sanctuary of her rooms, Cecily shut the door behind her and let out a sob of relief.  
There was an audible gasp from behind her. "Miss Cecily!"  
Cecily spun around to find Mariah standing there, her hands at her mouth, to cover her gaping expression no doubt. Cecily knew she must look awful; like she had been traipsing around the woods all night. Which of course, she had.  
"Mariah," she managed to give her friend a smile.  
Mariah flew forward and began to check Cecily over like a mother hen inspecting her chick. "Oh, my Lord! You look a fright. Are you hurt?"  
"No, I am perfectly alright. Just very tired."  
"Of course you are," Mariah pulled herself together. "Let's get you to bed and we can talk after you've rested.  
Cecily made no objection to that plan and was very compliant as Mariah helped her out of her disguise and stuffed it into a sack, which she then hid in her sowing basket. It wasn't a great hiding spot but it would do for the time being. She could barely keep her eyes open as Mariah pulled her nightgown over her head. Cecily was asleep almost the moment her head hit the pillows.

Cecily slept long and deeply. When she finally awoke it was well past noon and she was starving. She rang the bell for Mariah and stretched, feeling sore from her long ride.  
When Mariah appeared Cecily was delighted to see that she had brought up a breakfast tray.  
"I've never slept so peacefully," Cecily told her, sitting in her sowing chair and pulling the tray towards her. Bless Mariah. The tray had a hot scone with jam and clotted cream, a bowl of porrridge and honey, two poached eggs with blanched tomatoes on the side, a piece of buttered toast, and a single fat, sticky sausage. Mariah had also included a pot of hot tea. Cecily started eating the eggs with unlady-like zeal.  
Mariah watched her eat with her arms folded stiffly across her chest. "Well I did not. I swear I was tossing and turning all night, fretting over your fate, until you stumbled back in here in such a disheveled state. I was sure you were in the clutches of the enemy."  
"Thank you for the vote of confidence."  
"Where are your manners?" Mariah chastised her passionately. She snatched up the napkin from the tray and tucked it roughly into the front of Cecily's nightgown. Cecily mumbled a thank you around her scone. "One night gallivanting with Master Brewster and you forget years of etiquette training."  
"I'm getting into the role of a young worker in disguise," Cecily said with a wicked grin.  
Mariah pursed her lips.  
Cecily took a dainty sip of tea, taking care to stick her little finger out. "Don't you want to hear about my adventure?" she asked Mariah, batting her eyes winningly at her.  
Mariah snorted but couldn't stop herself from smiling. "I'm near mad with curiosity, but I wanted to make sure you knew how worried I was first."  
"I know, Mariah, thank you. But I shan’t let your curiosity eat at you too badly. I’ll tell you everything…though…” she added. “Perhaps we can talk over a bath?”  
Mariah laughed out loud. “I’ll not object to that condition. Lord knows my eyes are watering just standing here.”  
Cecily stuck her tongue out childishly and Mariah merely laughed again before setting to work preparing the bath. All the while Cecily related to Mariah everything that had happened the night before between bites of porridge. She took care to speak only in a low voice and mentioned neither Ben, nor Caleb by their real names. She did not tell Mariah her alias yet either. While Cecily trusted Mariah with her life she did not trust the thickness of her walls, and felt it better to err on the side of caution.  
When Cecily finished Mariah sat back and exhaled deeply. "My word, what a night you've had! You're certain about this, Miss Cecily? I can't change your mind about how dangerous and foolish you're being?"  
"No," said Cecily firmly.  
"I thought not. You know I'm behind you all the way." Mariah reached over and squeezed Cecily's hand.  
Cecily returned the pressure, smiling warmly at her. "I'm so glad you're on my side, Mariah. I would never have been brave enough without you."  
Mariah got up hastily, her eyes overbright. "I can't sit around nattering all day," she said gruffly. "There's work to be done. Are you feeling well enough to come downstairs or are you still under the weather?"  
"What? Oh! Yes, I think I can struggle down." Cecily had completely forgotten that she was supposed to be sick in bed.  
Mariah helped Cecily to dress and fixed her hair before heading back downstairs with the savaged breakfast tray. Cecily followed not long after, deciding that she would go for a long walk around the grounds and get some fresh air. She was halfway down the staircase when she met Major Andre.  
He smiled the moment he saw her. "Miss Dartmore, I am so glad to see you up and about. You had us all quite worried. Are you feeling better?"  
"Yes, thank you, Major," she replied pleasantly. "I am quite restored."  
"I was just about to have these brought up to you." Major Andre pulled a bouquet of wild flowers from where he had been hiding them behind his back. He handed them over to her, bowing slightly.  
"That is very kind of you, thank you," Cecily said again, bringing the flowers to her nose to smell them. "Did you pick them yourself?" she teased.  
"I confess to being deliberate in my selection. I wished only the most perfect blossoms to raise your spirits."  
"I never would have guessed you had a hidden penchant for horticulture."  
"I am a man of many talents, Miss Dartmore," Major Andre's eyes twinkled at her. "Do not let me interrupt you. I see you were just on your way out." He bowed to her and swept gracefully from the hall.  
Cecily remained on the stairs momentarily, feeling slightly giddy. Major Andre had that effect on people. She left the flowers with Mariah in the kitchen and went out for her walk.

When Cecily returned she saw a uniformed man waiting outside the house beside two horses. He was wearing the tall green helmet of the Dragoons. It was only then that she remembered the conversation she had overheard that morning about Andre's guest. She strolled around the front of the house so that she could pass close enough to the man to see his face.  
"Ma'am," he addressed her politely.  
Cecily stared at the second of the two horses he was holding. Its coat was the rich, dark red of polished wood, its mane and tale jet black and glossy. The horse was exquisite, perfect in its build and form. It watched Cecily out of dark liquid eyes. She resisted the urge to pat its velvet nose and instead entered the cool interior of her own house, pausing to untie the scarf she had wrapped around her throat.  
Voices were drifting out of Major Andre's study. One of them Cecily knew instantly as belonging to the Major; the other was unfamiliar to her. The speaker was an Englishman and he spoke in a quiet, careful way that made her skin prickle. Something about the steadiness in his voice, rather than reassure her, put her at ill ease.  
Cecily tried to inch closer to the door, wishing to hear what they were saying.  
"Cecily!"  
She gave a guilty start at looked around at her father.  
"What are you doing?" he hissed in a whisper. Lord Dartmore beckoned her over to him with the book he was holding in his hand.  
Cecily scurried to his side, feeling like she was nine years old again, being chastised for playing in his office. "Who is our guest, father?" she asked, speaking before he could interrogate her.  
Lord Dartmore's brow creased in a frown. His eyes flickered to the study door. "I'm not sure," he murmured to her. "Major Andre introduced him briefly to me as a Colonel Castor. I do not believe he is staying for dinner."  
"What is his business with the Major?"  
Lord Dartmore professed his ignorance by a shake of the head. His curiosity over the visitor must have been nearly as great as Cecily's; her father never intruded on the private affairs of his guests. "Don't ever let me catch you listening at doors," he warned her. "It’s terribly improper for a lady of your age and standing."  
"I won't, father," Cecily promised. I won't let you catch me, that is.  
"Lord Dartmore-"  
Cecily and her father both jumped at the sound of Major Andre's smooth voice. Major Andre was leaning around the office door, his face showing a curious emotion that Cecily couldn't identify.  
"We are to have a guest for dinner tonight after all. Will you please inform your cook?"  
Cecily bristled at the indignity of asking Lord Dartmore to pass a message to a servant, but her father merely nodded courteously.  
"Of course," He replied.   
"You have my humblest thanks," said the Major before shutting the door.  
"Father!" Cecily hissed, now rounding on him. "How can you let him speak to you like that?"  
"The Major is a guest in our household-"  
"That doesn't give him the right to order you about!"  
"You see it as an order? He was very polite in his request-"  
"But it was a request all the same. Major Andre should not address a Dartmore as if he were commanding a common soldier!"  
"That's enough!" Lord Dartmore's said sharply. He glanced hastily at the closed study door and lowered his voice to a whisper. "I know that the Major may find your boldness endearing, but you are far too impetuous over this issue. If you can't behave like a lady you will not be allowed to remain in the presence of our guest. Really, Cecily," and here Lord Dartmore's face softened to one of disappointed sadness "What has been the matter with you lately?"  
Cecily gazed at her father for a long moment. Then she burst into tears. False tears, it had to be admitted, but if you blubber enough and hide your face in a handkerchief its really very difficult to tell.  
Lord Dartmore looked as if he had no idea what had just happened.  
"I'm sorry, father," she quavered into a scrap of lace. "It’s the stress of this war, it has me in such a state."  
Lord Dartmore wrapped Cecily in a gentle hug and rubbed her back. "I forget how fragile you ladies are in the face of warfare," he murmured.  
Cecily was glad he could not see her face. A rush of anger had flared in her at his words. Fragile, indeed! And I, the newest spy for the Patriot cause. "I think I need to get away from it all for a while, away from the city. I was thinking that it might be good if I go visit Uncle Richard in Setauket."  
Lord Dartmore drew back from her in surprise. "Setauket? That's quite a ways from here- absolutely not, out of the question, the roads are not safe for travel-"  
"Oh please," Cecily beseeched him. "Let me go see Uncle Richard and cousin Abraham. It’s been such a long time; I have yet to meet Abraham’s wife, Mary, and I even heard they had a son. I'm sure I'll be perfectly safe."  
"We'll discuss this after dinner."  
"Thank you, father," Cecily pecked him on the cheek and dashed upstairs.  
"Confound it, that wasn't a yes!" Lord Dartmore shouted after her, sounding very exasperated indeed. 

 

Lord Dartmore was partaking from his customary glass of sherry in the library when Cecily joined him. The dinner gong was due to ring any minute, but she poured herself a petite measure of sherry and sipped at it demurely, pretending to read from a novel. Cecily felt that after their earlier conversation neither of them wished to discuss it now. She hoped her father was at least thinking over her wish to go to Setauket.  
How can I convince him it will be a good idea? Perhaps if I mention it at dinner the Major would support me. Either that or he'll side with my father and say it’s too dangerous... It was a gamble she would have to make.  
Major Andre entered the room, looking heart breaking in his finely tailored red coat. Behind him came a man who was almost completely his opposite, his mysterious guest from earlier: Colonel Castor.  
Cecily stared at him. It was terribly rude, she knew, but for once her father had forgotten his own manners and was staring as well.  
Colonel Castor was shorter than Major Andre, only about as tall as Cecily, and walked with a briskness that suggested action; next to Major Andre's graceful swagger he seemed to march. He had long hair of a common shade of brown and wore his formal clothes as poorly as Andre wore his own well. Colonel Castor was not handsome, nor was he ugly, but something about his face was captivating, and not in a pleasant way.  
"Lord Dartmore, Miss Dartmore, may I introduce Colonel Gabriel Castor of His Majesty's Dragoons? Colonel Castor, Lord Dartmore and his daughter, Cecily."  
"My lord," Castor bowed stiffly to Lord Dartmore (who acknowledged him with a polite nod in return) before turning his eyes upon Cecily.  
At once, Cecily felt struck to the core. It was as if something had gripped her heart and squeezed it.  
"Miss Dartmore," Colonel Castor inclined his head to her. His voice managed to be cold, silky, and poisonous all at once. She managed to compose herself enough to give a short curtsy.   
Cecily could not have spoken a word if she her life had depended on it. Only when Colonel Castor looked away did she find herself able to breathe again. Good Lord, she thought, this man terrifies me. No wonder the Major has seen so out of sorts all day.  
Never had the dinner gong been heard with such profound relief. Lord Dartmore took his place at the head of the table, Cecily sat across from Major Andre, and Colonel Castor was given a chair opposite Lord Dartmore.  
Cecily was glad not to have to look at him all through dinner, although she found it perhaps more uncomfortable facing away from him. She felt like a mouse being observed by a particularly malevolent cat.  
Major Andre and her father talked about the war effort, Cecily occasionally inserting a comment where appropriate. Colonel Castor said very little and toyed unenthusiastically with the soup course. Once or twice Cecily wondered why Major Andre had invited him to dinner. That was before she caught the Major giving Castor sharp, sideways glances and it suddenly struck her that Andre seemed to be observing him. Did he want to keep Castor close by, so he could watch his movements? Why on earth should he want to do that? Was is a part of the sentiment, keep your friends close and your enemies closer?   
But why would the Major consider Castor an enemy? They were both on the same side.   
“If you’ll recall, Major,” Colonel Castor was saying, his smooth, icy voice cut into Cecily’s thoughts. “It was I who first advised you on the probable activity of rebel espionage and you waved it off as nonsense. Thus, I am afraid you must forgive me if I am not overly surprised or sympathetic.”   
Cecily looked over to Major Andre to see his response. The latter merely stared at Castor for a moment with a slight, tense smirk on his face before replying. “I was expecting neither from you, Colonel. I merely thought you would be pleased that I acknowledged your correctness on the matter. And to inform you that your next destination happens to be suspiciously connected to these rebel spies. That little fish town on Long Island…Setauket.”  
Castor’s interest looked piqued. “Is that quite so?”  
“Indeed,” Andre confirmed before turning to Cecily. “It has also been brought to my attention rather recently that our own Miss Dartmore used to have connections there as well. What a small world it is.”  
“Yes,” mused Castor, looking as if deeply in thought. “A small world indeed.”  
Cecily seized her opportunity. "It is amusing that you should mention Setauket, Major Andre. I was just expressing my desire to visit my family there to my father this afternoon. My uncle, Richard Woodhull, is the magistrate in Setauket, Colonel Castor." Cecily said for the benefit of their uninformed guest. Her eyes met the Colonel's for the briefest moment over the terrine before she looked away hastily.  
"As I said before, my dear, the roads are hardly safe for a young lady of your standing to travel on," grunted Lord Dartmore.  
"Oh piffel," Cecily said dismissively. "I'm sure they are perfectly safe with His Majesty's best protecting the ways." Cecily twinkled in the Major's direction.  
"Your father is quite right to be cautious," said Major Andre. "Our men cannot be everywhere at all times. One must never underestimate the levels to which the rebels will stoop. It is a testament to their dishonorable nature that not even a loyalist family would be safe. If I could spare the men I would see you personally escorted to Setauket, Miss Dartmore."  
"You go to too much trouble, Major," said Cecily.  
"No trouble is too great for a beauty such as yours," said Major Andre boldly.  
Colonel Castor actually snorted.  
"It would seem the Major agrees with me, then," said Lord Dartmore, who had completely missed everything that had just passed between the three of them. "Your going to Setauket is out of the question."  
It was then that Colonel Castor, to everyone's astonishment, spoke. "As stated previously, my men and I are traveling to Setauket shortly. We leave the day after next. Miss Dartmore would be welcome to ride with us."  
Cecily, Andre, and Lord Dartmore all turned to stare at Colonel Castor. Even Andre seemed shocked by the offer.  
"Oh! Well...I'm not sure if that's really..." Lord Dartmore faltered.  
"She could ask for no safer company than a regiment of Dragoons," said Colonel Castor simply.  
"That sounds as if it settles the matter," said Cecily cheerfully. They all returned to their terrine. While Cecily was enthused to be able to go to Setauket, she felt her stomach flood with an icy cold at the thought of traveling in Colonel Castor's company. Just dinner was excruciating; how much worse would travel with him be?


	8. Barba non facit philosophum

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hello everyone! I really need to get better about updating and I do apologize again for how late this one is. This chapter is short, sweet, and acts as a bit of a transition chapter, but the next chapter will have a little surprise, so be patient! I hope people are still enjoying this story and I look forward to reading any reviews.They make my day! As always, thank you to my co-author Robin Goodly. 
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own anything pertaining to TURN: Washington’s Spies. I only lay claim on my OC’s and elements of the story that deviate from the plot of the show.

Barba non facit philosophum

“There’s something going on between those two,” said Caleb, as he paced back in forth in front of Ben’s desk; wearing a proverbial path in the carpet. “I just don’t know what.”  
“Ya know, when I suggested that he take Anna to New York, to get past the checkpoints, he got very upset.” Caleb continued, changing the course of his pacing to the side of Ben’s desk as Ben himself, tried desperately to stay focused on the paperwork before him.  
“Anyway, I suppose,” Caleb mused, more to himself at that point. “None of this is our concern.”  
Though he had been attempting to concentrate, Ben looked up then, indignant. “They’re my only two agents on Long Island. If there’s trouble between them I need to know about it.”  
Caleb ceased in his pacing and gave a triumphant smirk. “How’s about you get in the ‘ole whaleboat with me, Major? Get yourself out of this woodpile.”  
Ben sighed and placed down the paper he had been working on. “I’d like to…but, Washington needs me here.” He gestured to the desk laden with papers. “Compiling.” Ben continued, speaking the word with a mild sense of distaste. “That, and there’s Sackett’s homework. Tradecraft, as he calls it.”  
“I feel like I’m back in school again.” He admitted, slumping in his chair and pinching the bridge of his nose, a dull ache starting in his forehead.  
“Ya?” Caleb looked far too amused as far as Ben was concerned. “See this,” he pointed to the desk. “Is exactly why I was careful to avoid success.”  
Ben couldn’t help but smile at that and raised his goblet to mock salute Caleb before taking a swig.  
“Speaking of agents though,” Caleb started, a mischievous gleam in his eyes. “I have a letter here that just came in this morning. Fresh from our favorite new spy, Mr. Argent.”  
Ben’s head shot up, his heart starting to pound more rapidly. “From Cecily? This soon? Is everything alright? Let me see it-” Ben reached out to try and take the letter from Caleb but he held it tantalizingly out of his reach.  
"Not until you promise to at least walk outside and breath the fresh air. You're getting prison pallor from being inside this bloody room." He taunted.  
"Very funny." Ben made another grab for the letter across the desk and nearly upset his ink bottle.  
Caleb leapt to his feet and skipped back a step, laughing. "You need to be faster than that if you want to catch me, Tallboy. It’s all this sitting around, making you fat. Soon you'll be bald and unattractive and a virgin forever."  
"DAMN IT, CALEB!" Ben thundered.  
Violence was fortunately forestalled because it was then that the doors opened and Corporal Klinger entered, his stride purposeful as he approached Ben’s desk (though he came up short at the sight of the Major himself, who was clearly about three seconds away from going over the desk and tackling Caleb).  
“Sir,” he said by way of greeting, his voice hesitant.  
Caleb sauntered over to stand beside him, a cheeky grin on his face. “Sir, he says.”  
Corporal Klinger glanced once at the ex-whaler and then turned his attention back to Ben, who still had thoughts of a certain red head swirling in his head and an undeniable desire to strangle a certain bearded bastard.  
“I have an urgent message from the Province Marshall.” The Corporal extended a letter, which Ben readily took. “I thought perhaps you’d like to see the latest prisoner exchange proposal.” Klinger added.  
“Thank you, Corporal.” Ben replied and Klinger gave one last nod before turning and striding out of the room.  
Carefully unfolding the letter, Ben opened it up and read over the list of names, eyes always scanning for one name in particular that was never there. Until now. He froze as his eyes caught it and couldn’t help but read it over once, then twice, then three times, just to ensure he was indeed, reading the scrawled words correctly. 

Samuel Tallmadge 

Ben shot up from his chair abruptly, sending it screeching backwards. He kept his eyes trained on the one name that had sent his world spiraling.  
“What is it?” Caleb demanded immediately.  
“Samuel,” Ben replied. “It’s…it’s Samuel. He’s alive.” He offered the paper to Caleb, who snatched it from his hand. “He’s being released.”  
Caleb was silent for a moment as he read and then he let out an exclamation, a huge smile breaking out on his face. “Sammy boy!”  
The two friends hugged each other, gleeful expressions on both of their faces. Ben’s chest felt lighter than it had in years.  
“When do we go get him?” Caleb asked eagerly, jumping back and looking at Ben expectantly.  
“I…I have to report to Washington tomorrow.” Ben told him, pinching the bridge of his nose again, feeling the walls closing in.  
“Aw c’mon, he’ll release you for this!” Insisted Caleb.  
Ben shook his head. “No, he won’t…he’ll consider it special treatment. There are other men’s brothers who are on that list.”  
“Alright,” Caleb conceded. “Alright then, I’ll pick him up…I’ll go and get Samuel and then I’ll bring him back straight here.” Caleb started for the door and then turned back. “No, I’ll get him drunk first. I’ll get him drunk and then I’ll get him a screw.” He grabbed his hat and started out again.  
“Caleb, wait.” Ben called after him. “The letter from Cec…Mr. Argent?”  
“Oh, Christ, I almost forgot.” Caleb reached back in his coat pocket and pulled it out.  
Ben took the letter and returned to his seat to slice open the seal. He read it quickly and frowned. "It says she's on her way to Setauket in the company of British Dragoons and the head of the company is Colonel Castor.”  
"Setauket? Maybe I'll see her there during my crossings," said Caleb, then another thought seemed to occur to him. “Wait a minute…Castor? Isn’t he that bloke that sent you that letter a while back about Dogson? The breeder, he called himself?”  
Ben nodded grimly, his jaw set. “The very same. The man is cunning and deadly. I don’t like the idea of Cecily being anywhere near him.”  
His friend put a hand on his shoulder reassuringly. “She’ll be fine, Tallboy. Remember, she’s a right proper British lady now. There’s no way that bastard will do anything to her.”  
Ben merely nodded again, feeling sick. He knew Caleb was right and though he also knew when Cecily recruited herself for the job that it would be dangerous, he hadn’t actually been mentally prepared for the reality of it. If anything happened to her…  
“Does it say anything else?” Asked Caleb.  
"She left yesterday. Mariah must have posted the letter for her." Ben reread the letter before folding it up and stuffing it into his jacket pocket. “She’s probably also going to miss Abraham and Anna, though. That is, if they actually agree to travel together.”  
“Well, she’ll catch ‘em when they get back then. It’ll be alright, Ben.”  
“I hope you’re right, Caleb.” Replied Ben. “You have no idea how much I hope you’re right.” 

 

Later that day, after Caleb had left for the prisoner exchange, the doors to Ben’s study burst open and Nathaniel Sackett swept through like a hurricane, muttering to himself like a madman. Ben jumped so hard that his knee banged the table and this time the ink did tip over. Swearing profusely, Ben quickly righted it and did his best to soak up the spillage before it ruined any important papers.  
“It’s always a pleasure when you burst in here like this, Sackett.” Ben muttered, feeling greatly put out by the entire situation and his spilt ink.  
“Ah ha!” Sackett was crying excitedly, pacing the room. He clearly had not heard Ben’s sarcastic remark. “I’ve done it! We are in business! I tell you, Major, we are in business now.”  
Ben looked up at him, puzzled now. “Sir?”  
Sackett finally stopped fluttering about long enough to look at him. He frowned as he eyes the spilled ink and Ben standing there, holding a fistful of papers in each hand to save them from being damaged. “What on earth are you doing in here?” he demanded. “Really, Benjamin. You must take greater care with the ink! Those papers are important.”  
Ben huffed and gave the older man a bland look. Which of course, the latter ignored as he continued his chatter. The former had a sudden urge to slam his face into his desk.  
“Anyway, as I was saying…after months and months of preparation we are finally ready!”  
“Ready for what, sir?” Ben asked again, starting to lose his patience with Sackett’s rambling.  
“Oh! Of course, I haven’t told you yet…”  
“No, you haven’t.” Ben had to hold back a chuckle. Sometimes Nathaniel was so scatterbrained it made Ben himself feel as if he hadn’t gone insane just yet.  
“Ah, well that’s easily remedied,” said Sackett. “You see, Major, things are finally prepared to implement one of our own in the British encampment through the exchange of prisoners. Then, once our man has infiltrated enemy lines we will have our much needed intelligence for Washington. It’s not a man permanently stationed in New York, which would be ideal, but I tell you, it is a start.”  
“Well, actually…we do have someone in New York.” Said Ben, deciding it was about time Sackett know about the latest addition to the ring.  
Sackett leaned forward expectantly, his interest piqued. “What do you mean?”  
“As of a few night ago we have a new agent located in York City. They have the alias of Gideon Argent.” Ben kept his speech concise and to the point.  
Sackett didn’t miss a beat. “And why was I not informed of a new recruit?”  
“Because they’re a volunteer, not a recruit. I was not even aware of it until Brewster brought them here a few nights back.”  
“A volunteer?” Sackett looked extremely surprised indeed. “That is very peculiar…”  
“Yes, it is.” Ben said.  
“Who is this new spy and how did they know of us? This is very unsettling, Major. The only aspect of this that is reassuring me is that I know you must have close relations with this man. For surely you wouldn’t be so foolish as to admit a stranger to ring.”  
Ben tried not to look too offended. “Of course I wouldn’t. And I do know her. Very well actually.”  
“Her?” Sackett’s eyes seemed to bug out of his head. “The new agent is a woman?”  
And so with that Ben launched into the whole story, telling Sackett everything about Cecily, from their time growing up to her current situation. The other man got very interested once Ben breached the matter of Andre staying at her residence.  
“Major Andre, eh?” he mused. “Now that is a man I for one would love to know more about. I must say, Benjamin, this is very well thought out and it might just work if she…er…Mr. Argent is able to execute it properly.”  
“She will. It was her idea. She concocted and developed the entire plan.” And coerced me into allowing it. Ben thought to himself bitterly, though he wouldn’t dare say that part out loud.  
“With Mr. Culpeper and now Mr. Argent, this is shaping up to be quite the formidable ring indeed.” Sackett thought aloud.  
Ben couldn’t help but nod in agreement.


	9. Via

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! Thank you so much for the support I have gotten so far for this story. Your reviews mean the world to me. I really like this next chapter and I hope you all do as well! Enjoy! 
> 
> As always, thank you to my co-author Robin Goodly. 
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own anything pertaining to TURN: Washington’s Spies. I only lay claim on my OC’s and elements of the story that deviate from the plot of the show.

Via

On Cecily’s previous visits to Setauket the journeys had always been quite dull. In the past the only people one encountered on the way were merchants traveling across Long Island. Now, however, the roadways were packed. Cecily soon realized this was because the British were forcing everyone on their way into the city through a check point. Carts were backed up for over a mile, full of angry drivers and livestock.  
As she gazed at the sea of carts, Cecily couldn’t help wondering if anyone she knew was stuck in the madness. Fortunately, because she was in the company of a whole contingent of British Dragoons, no one stopped her. She amused herself with imagining what would happen if someone tried to hold up Colonel Castor, and decided she would rather be on the front lines then tell the Colonel he wasn’t allowed to do something.  
From the windows of her carriage Cecily watched the congestion thin to a stream, and then not even a dribble. Farms and acre upon acre of mind-numbingly similar fields flashed by as they passed. Occasionally a horse and rider would trot past the carriage, bearing a message up or down the column of marching Dragoons. Cecily was certain that the Dragoons, in their tall helmets and heavy uniforms, had to have been boiling; even Cecily, in her airiest traveling dress and sitting in the luxury of a shaded carriage, felt uncomfortably warm.  
Mariah, sitting opposite her, had her knitting in her lap and a basket full of yarn and lethal looking needles open at her hip. She had not looked up from her work once since they had left, expect briefly to glare at a farmer who had uttered a loud and particularly vulgar curse when his cow stepped on his foot.  
“Mighty hot, Miss Cecily,” she said now conversationally.  
“Yes, it is quite warm,” said Cecily. She had been waving a silk fan in front of her face, but so far all it was doing was moving the hot air around the carriage. “Do you suppose they’ll stop somewhere for a rest? Those men can’t be comfortable.”  
“They’re tough soldiers,” Mariah grunted, scrutinizing several stitches on one of her needles, before finally shaking her head and sliding the needle free, pulling out the entire row. “Tough soldiers are used to the hardships of the road.”  
“True,” said Cecily. “But I think that anyone wearing a Dragoon’s helmet for longer than it takes for general inspection is likely to suffer from heat stroke. Look at them out there!”  
Mariah glanced out of the window. “Those boys are about as done as a lobster, I’d say,” she said, nodding.  
“I haven’t seen Colonel Castor at all. I wonder if he’ll give the order to stop.” Cecily leaned out of the window of the carriage, craning her neck around in an attempt to see farther up the line.  
“Sit down, child! No lady ever sticks her head out a carriage like a common tart!” Mariah jabbed her with a knitting needle and Cecily yelped.  
She sat back, rubbing her arm ruefully.  
“If you’re so bothered by the heat why don’t you tell them to stop?” Mariah asked her. “You are a member of the upper echelon, despite your best attempts prove otherwise.”  
“Mariah, I don’t like to say this about anyone, but you are not fun to travel with.”  
Mariah proceeded to ignore Cecily for the next half hour.

Colonel Castor did, finally, order the Dragoons to stop. Cecily climbed out of the carriage with relief. Her muscles were singing to her with the discomfort of sitting for so long, and as she stepped onto the dusty road she felt her back click in several places. Cecily uttered a groan.  
“Groaning is un-lady like!” Mariah’s voice, like a too attentive mother goose, floated after her.  
Cecily stuck her nose in the air and marched away from the carriage.  
They had pulled over near a copse of leafy green trees, whose dense foliage provided enough shade for all the men to find shelter from the burning sun. A wide gushing river was at the foot of a hill, its bank thronged with weeping willows trailing their branches in the water. A lot of the Dragoons were down there already, splashing water over their faces to cool themselves.  
Cecily retreated some distance from them along the bank, took off her shoes, and waded into the river. Refreshingly cool water closed around her legs and a sigh of both relief and pleasure escaped her lips.

“So tell me, Anna,” Cecily started, taking a dainty bite of one of the pastries they brought along to their picnicking spot. Both girls were sitting below a great oak tree near Argent Spring, which was a favorite romping ground for them. This particular occasion was as special as it was rare. Cecily and Anna hardly ever had time alone together to have a nice refreshing girl talk. Between Caleb constantly getting in their (and everyone else’s) business, Abraham clinging to Anna’s every move, and Ben always hovering protectively around all of them, the two girls rarely had a chance to speak privately.   
“Tell you what?” Anna asked, smiling.  
Cecily flashed her friend a wicked grin. “About what’s going on with you and my cousin, of course.”  
A red flush colored Anna’s cheeks and she looked down, where she was fiddling with her hands in her lap. “I’m…I’m not sure I know what you mean.”  
“Oh, of course you don’t.” Cecily replied, rolling her eyes. “I suppose, then, that you and Abraham haven’t been in a courtship these past months?”  
Anna’s blush deepened. “Well…that’s it though. Nothing is…going on.”  
Cecily laughed aloud. “A courtship can hardly be called nothing, Anna. Though, I suppose your reluctance has already answered my second inquiry…”  
“And what, pray tell, is that?” Anna looked suspicious.  
Cecily’s grin widened. “Why, if Abraham had proposed yet.”  
“Proposed?” Anna’s already large brown eyes were now practically bugging out of her head.   
“You know, if he’s asked you to marry him yet.” Was Cecily’s saucy response.  
“I know the meaning of word is.” Anna replied indignantly.   
Cecily laughed at her friend’s incredulous expression. “I wanted to be sure.” She teased, and then laughed even harder when Anna playfully swatted her arm.   
Then, Anna sobered and her smile faded. “We haven’t spoken of marriage.”  
“Do you want to marry him?” Cecily inquired, though she knew the answer. She just wanted hear it from her friend’s lips.   
“Of course I do,” replied Anna. “Though I must confess I am fearful the desire is not mutual.”  
Cecily gaped at her. “Anna, are you being quite serious right now?  
“Well, we have been officially courting for over three months now and I have yet to hear one whisper of marriage from Abe. What if…what if he has lost interest and no longer loves me as he once did?” Anna mused and Cecily watched as a dark cloud of despair settled over her friend.   
“Oh Anna, don’t be ridiculous. Abraham is absolutely head over heels in love with you. Just because he hasn’t given any sign of a proposal doesn’t mean anything. Abe is slow in these things; you know that as well as anyone. He will propose in time.” Cecily assured her.   
Anna gave a small smile. “Do you really think so?”   
Cecily placed an affirming hand on Anna’s knee. “I know so.”  
“What are you two gabbing on about?” Came a familiar voice. “Talking about how wonderful I am?”  
Both girls whipped their heads around to see the source. Cecily smiled when she saw Caleb emerge from the trees. He wore his characteristic mischievous grin as he swaggered towards them.   
“Don’t you mean…how annoying you are?” Cecily countered, smirking at him. Anna giggled but soon they were both shrieking as Caleb launched himself on top of them, pinning both girls to the ground. He propped himself up to look down at them with a wicked grin.   
“Annoying, eh? I don’t buy it. I think you both love me.”  
“Don’t count on it, Brewster.” Anna wheezed.   
“Yeah,” said Cecily, struggling to breathe as well. “You great hairy oofph.”   
Caleb opened his mouth to most likely say something inappropriate but before he could another voice came from behind. “Alright Caleb, that’s enough. You’re crushing my cousin and my girl.”   
With a groan, Caleb rolled off of them and lay on his back. “Aw, Woody, yer no fun.”  
Abraham reached them and flopped down next to Anna, who leaned into him, looking very content as she rested her head on his shoulder. Cecily rolled over to lay on her side, propping her hand under her chin and watched the happy couple. She never felt out of place but it was still slightly painful when she knew it was time for her to step back. They were all still friends of course, but with Anna and Abe’s relationship progressing as it was, things were changing.   
There was the sound of crunching leaves behind her and then another voice she would recognize anywhere. “Well, what do we have here? You four look like the start of a bad joke.”  
Cecily smiled and turned her head as Ben walked up, a grin on his face. He lowered himself down to sit next to her, positioning his body so that he leaned over her torso, his hand resting on her other side. She rolled onto her back and looked up at Ben who was gazing down at her, his eyes shining. Cecily was suddenly grateful she was already lying down because he looked positively angelic with the sun’s rays around his head like a halo and she feared she might swoon.   
“What?” She managed to ask. The hum of the others’ conversation faded as all of Cecily’s senses focused on the beautiful sight hovering above her.   
Ben shook his head. “Nothing. Nothing at all.”  
“You’re looking at me funny.”  
“No, I’m not.”  
“Benjamin.” Cecily said forcefully, getting irritated.  
“Cecily.” He copied her tone, his blue eyes twinkling as he gazed deeply into her eyes.   
She rolled her eyes. “You’re insufferable.”   
Ben flashed a grin. “Am I, now?”  
Before Cecily could respond with an even saucier response, Caleb groaned. “Aw Christ. Now I’m stuck between two pairs of lovebirds.”  
Red colored the tips of Ben’s cheeks and he looked down at the ground. Cecily let out a short laugh and shook her head. Poor Ben, she thought. Whenever Caleb made a joke about women he looked as if he wanted to bury his head in sand like an ostrich. Though Cecily would be lying if she said she wasn’t pleased Ben had such…limited experience with the opposite sex.   
“Oh, I’m sorry Brewster,” Abe jeered. “Are we making you uncomfortable? Let me remedy that.” Without waiting for Caleb to respond he swooped down and kissed Anna. She giggled as he pushed her down so he hovered over her while he kissed her with exaggerated passion to purposely poke at Caleb.   
“Shite, Woody. Now I ‘ave to go vomit.”  
Abe broke away and grinned down at Anna. “Success. We got rid of him.”  
“Woah now, hold on a minute. I ain’t going anywhere. Get rid of me...bah. You two’ll have to do better than that to deter me.” Caleb looked highly offended.   
This, unsurprisingly, started a whole argument between Abraham and Caleb, with Anna interjecting.   
Cecily watched the ongoing exchange for a moment before an idea popped into her head. She turned back to Ben, who was looked extremely uncomfortable, and tapped him on the arm before getting to her feet. “Come on. Walk with me.”  
Ben gave her a quizzical look but followed her into the trees. Cecily led him down to the bank of a section of Argent Springs that was more secluded than the rest.   
“What are we doing?” Ben asked finally, coming to stand next to her at the water’s edge.   
Cecily turned and grinned at him. “I was getting too hot sitting there. I thought we could go for a swim to cool down.”   
Ben frowned as he eyed her dress. It wasn’t anything fancy but it certainly wasn’t swimming material. “But…Cecily, you can’t…in your dress…” he trailed off, suddenly looking awkward.   
“Easily remedied.” She said with a wink. Ben raised an eyebrow but she ignored him and proceeded to go to work undoing the laces on her gown. A moment later, Ben cleared his throat. “Cecily…what…what are you doing?”  
She flashed him a coy smile over her shoulder. “You yourself said I can’t swim in my dress.”  
“Yes, but…” he trailed off as she slipped it down over her shoulders. She wasn’t naked (as her chemise and corset were still on) but she could still feel Ben’s eyes on her and she tried not to turn around or squirm too badly.   
“Yes?” She prompted, attempting to loosen her corset a bit.   
Ben cleared his throat again and finished. “This is…hardly decorous.”  
Now she turned to him, giving up in her endeavor to loosen the corset, and gave him a look. “Why are you worrying about propriety? It’s not as if you haven’t seen me in my nightgown before. Which is far less modest than this.” She gestured to her current attire.   
Ben, who was still trying not to look at her, coughed. “When you were ten years old.”  
“What’s the difference now? What’s changed?” She challenged, purposely setting him up and hoping he took the bait.  
Finally, Ben turned his eyes to her and his gaze roamed over as he said, “I can think of a few things.”   
Cecily felt triumph at his words but also a deep fluttering in her belly. She looked at him just as he brought his gaze back up and their eyes locked. Those cursed flutters exploded as she got snagged and held by the deep blue depths of his eyes. Ben’s lips parted and Cecily felt her heart start to race. Taking a few steps forward so she was standing directly in front of him, Cecily placed her hands on his chest.   
“Come swim with me.” She whispered.   
Ben’s eyes fluttered shut clenched his hands at his sides. Cecily moved her hands to the neckline of his shirt and pulled at the ties. “Ben, come on. Swim with me.”  
When he still said nothing she tried another approach. “If you don’t I fear I shall perish in this heat. Do you want that to happen?”   
One side of his mouth curved up in a grin and he raised his eyes to meet hers once again. The heat of that gaze slammed into her like a wave of fire and made her toes curl. He brought his hands up to rest on her waist. “Well, we can’t have that.”  
What happened next was so fast that Cecily hardly had time to react. She could only shriek as Ben grabbed her around the waist and swung her up and over his shoulder. “Benjamin!” She cried, gripping at his back even though his arms were holding her knees securely. “What are you doing?!”   
“Going swimming.” Ben replied, and Cecily could hear the amused smile in his voice as he started into the pond. She yelped when he got to the point where the water was to his waist and lowered her down. Except instead of her waist, the water reached her upper belly and Cecily hissed at the shock of feeling it through her corset. It was slightly colder than she had thought it would be. She looked up at Ben who was apparently unaffected by the sudden temperature change. He chuckled at the expression on her face. “Feel better?  
“I feel…refreshed.” She managed. Truth be told, Cecily didn’t trust herself to say how she really felt. Standing there, in the circle of his arms, she had the strangest sensation of being unnerved and relaxed at the same time. It wasn’t as if Ben had never held her before but the past few years he had pulled back in showing affection. Cecily tried not to let it get to her but there was a part of her that had been getting worried.   
Ben had grown quiet and it was then that Cecily realized that they had been standing there, still in the water, staring at each other. It was Ben who moved first, reaching up to pull her hair round her shoulders. She shivered as his hands brushed her collarbone.   
“You know,” Cecily started. “I-”  
“ATTACK!!!” Caleb roared, suddenly bursting out of the trees at a full sprint, heading straight towards them. Neither she nor Ben had time to do much of anything before Caleb launched himself off the ground and came down practically on top of them. All three went under in a mighty splash, a few muffled curses from Ben, and a shriek from Cecily that was promptly cut off when the water overtook her.   
A moment later she broke the surface, gasping for air. “CALEB BREWSTER!” Were the first words out of her mouth. Wiping water from her eyes and pushing back her now soaked hair, Cecily fumed at Caleb’s nerve when she heard him cackling with laughter. A second later, she registered Ben at her side looking very much like she felt; half drowned and extremely irritated at the third occupant in the pond.   
“You should have seen the looks on your faces!” Caleb was laughing so hard now that he was slightly keeled over.   
“Oh really?” Cecily countered. “Well, I simply cannot wait to see your face when I KILL YOU!”   
Caleb’s eyes widened a fraction and he had time enough to take one step back before she flew at him…only to never make contact. Cecily made a frustrated sound as Ben’s arms came around her waist and hauled her back against him. “Not like this,” he whispered low in her ear so that only she could hear him. “We’ll get him back later…be more strategic about it.” 

Behind Cecily there was a thud as something hit the ground. She jumped and spun around.  
Colonel Castor was standing at the edge of the stream, unfastening his horse’s bridal. He had just tossed his hat lightly onto the bank, causing the noise that had interrupted her reverie.  
The magnificent red flanked creature, once free of its bridal, lowered its head to the stream and drank deeply.  
“Colonel Castor, I did not hear you approach,” Cecily said, smiling despite the furious pounding of her heart.  
“It was not my intention to startle you,” Colonel Castor said. He was wiping foam from the bridal with a rag, a task which he seemed totally absorbed in.  
“Is it much farther to Setauket?”  
“A few hours.”  
“Have you been there before?”  
“No.”  
“I am so looking forward to seeing my relatives again.” This produced no response from Colonel Castor. After a pause Cecily said, a little desperately, “You have a beautiful horse, Colonel.”  
Colonel Castor finally looked at her. She immediately wished he hadn’t.  
“What- what breed, is he? If you don’t mind my asking?”  
“Destrier is an English Warmblood. He is one of the finest I have ever bred,” Colonel Castor said proudly. His voice had become animated; even his face took on more expression than its usual coldness.  
“You breed horses?” Cecily found this fascinating. “They must be back in England, surely.”  
“They are,” said Colonel Castor, almost sadly. He slipped into a subdued silence, his fingers trailing along the smooth, powerful curve of Destrier’s neck.  
Cecily shivered at the sight.  
“Once the war is over I will return to them,” he said.  
“I would love to see them!” she gushed, not meaning a word.  
Colonel Castor’s eyes captured hers, chilly and oh so perceptive. The faintest smirk twitched the side of his mouth, and Cecily realized he had seen straight through her lie. “You are most welcome, if ever you find yourself in England, Miss Dartmore.” Colonel Castor slipped the bridal back over Destrier’s ears, buckled it in place, and led his horse away, but not before giving her one of his stiff yet polite little bows.  
“What a curious sight,” a fine young voice said and Cecily turned to see a handsome Dragoon standing on the other side of the river back, grinning at her. He had his helmet tucked under his arm and was rolling a cigarette. From the way he was almost skulking under the willow tree Cecily surmised that he was trying to smoke without being seen.  
Her heart fluttered a little as her eyes met his. Cecily tried to tell herself it was because his blue eyes reminded her of Ben’s…  
“You’ve never seen a lady’s feet before?” Cecily said haughtily, wiggling her toes in the water.  
“Not that,” said the young man, flashing another broad grin, “although you have the prettiest feet out of any English girl I’ve met so far.” He jerked his chin at Colonel Castor’s retreating back. “I’ve never seen the colonel have such a normal conversation. He was almost…human.” He lit the cigarette and puffed at it with clear relish. A cloud of faintly purple smoke escaped from his lips and floated away on a draft.  
“He’s very odd,” Cecily said, lowering her voice.  
The Dragoon nodded energetically. “’Odd’ does not even cover it. Castor is bloody scary, if you’ll pardon my French. Oh, excuse me,” he added quickly. “You being a high class lady you probably know all the French already, don’t you?”  
My, this young man was bold with his flirtations! Cecily pretended to be affronted. “You misjudge me, sir,” she said in lofty tones.  
The man’s homely face sobered at once. He straightened out of his relaxed stance, his arms stiffly at his side. “My apologies, miss. I should not have presumed.”  
“I accept your apology,” said Cecily. “It must have been the heat that made you forget yourself.”  
The man nodded. “The heat had me feeling faint, miss. I forgot myself.”  
“In apology you can escort me back to my carriage and introduce yourself on the way.”  
The grin was back in a flash. “I can certainly do that for you. No need to tell me who you are, Miss Dartmore. All the lads know your name.”  
The young man was Augustus Grey, but he insisted that Cecily call him “Gus” which she absolutely refused to do on principle; that, and because she was absolutely certain Mariah would have a cow if she heard Cecily address a Dragoon in such a familiar way.  
As they walked back to the carriage they discussed America and the beauty of the geography. Gus had thoroughly enjoyed New York, and lamented the fact that they probably wouldn’t be returning to it any time soon.  
“We are not even staying long in Setauket,” Gus informed her. “Colonel Castor has orders to keep moving up Long Island right away.”  
“Where is your destination?”  
“Truth be told Miss, I haven’t an idea. The Colonel has been real secretive about the whole matter.”  
“How odd,” murmured Cecily. “You must be terribly curious though?”  
“I s’pose so,” replied Gus. “Though I do have a hunch.” He added.   
“Oh?” Cecily didn’t have to pretend to be intrigued.   
Gus looked around to make certain no one was in ear shot before leaning in. “I probably shouldn’t say nothing, but it’s not like them rebels will ever have the chance to get close to you and this is just rumor,” he glanced around one more time while Cecily tried not to smirk at the irony of his statement about rebels never getting close to her. “It’s believed that the Colonel has his own special intelligence agents operating independently of his Majesty’s finest and that he is using them to hunt for something or someone…though I am afraid who or what is not part of the rumor.”   
“My,” Cecily said. “That certainly sounds intriguing and important,” said Cecily. “It also sounds like you will be moving around quite a lot if it’s true. Do you ever get homesick?”  
“Nah,” he said. “We’re so busy we barely have time to think about being homesick. Anyway, I like it here,” Gus added with a smile. They had reached the carriage. “I except we’ll be moving again in a few minutes. Enjoy your fancy carriage, Miss Dartmore.” Gus gave her a jaunty salute and swaggered off.  
Oh dear! Thought Cecily in some distress. He’s the enemy, and yet I like him. How inconvenient. Cecily climbed back into the carriage and shut the door.  
Mariah was still knitting and gave every appearance of not having noticed Gus. Cecily wasn’t fooled. “Nice looking young man,” she commented finally.  
Cecily masked her grin. “I suppose he was…tolerable.”  
Mariah snorted.   
“Snorting is un-ladylike!” Cecily scolded, mimicking Mariah’s tone.   
The latter gave her a bland look and rolled her eyes.


	10. Argentum Fons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Oh, my goodness! I am so sorry it has taken this long for an update! My only excuse is school, finals, and then the holidays. I am trying to start off the new year right though, so I am giving you guys two new chapters back to back! I hope that they somewhat make up for my absence. 
> 
> Happy New Year to all my lovely readers and please review! I would love to know what you think! 
> 
> Thank you to my co-author Robin Goodly, without whom, this fic would not be possible. 
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own anything pertaining to TURN: Washington’s Spies. I only lay claim on my OC’s and elements of the story that deviate from the plot of the show.

Argentum Fons 

Setauket wasn’t much to look at. It never had been, and yet the sight of its scattered buildings made Cecily’s heart tighten within her. Although she had been there on many visits, it was to the memory of her first visit that she always turned upon seeing Setauket. She had been so young, grieving…  
The death of her mother, which left her father so broken that he sent her away to his sister, would forever be a dark spot in Cecily’s life; but without it, she never would have come to Setauket. She never would have met the sweet young boy with the angelic blue eyes, who would grow up to be so handsome. The thought of Ben as a child made Cecily smile like a ridiculous school girl.

***

Six-year old Cecily Dartmore stared out the coach’s window as it rolled down the narrow dirt road. Usually her young imagination would have been racing; perhaps she would have seen a wide and untamable sea laid out before her and the coach was a great ship destined to take her on many adventures. Or perhaps she would have imagined herself a princess in a foreign land, journeying to the far recesses of her kingdom to secure an alliance that would save her people form a terrible fate.   
But it was not a usual situation and so she was not imagining such things. Instead, she thought only of her mother, only called to heaven a week prior, and could only find the energy to mourn. She was only a child…a child who wanted her mother, but would never see her again.   
“Cecily, I hope you realize I am doing this for your own good.” Robert Dartmore said from his place across from her.  
“Yes, father.” Cecily replied, without looking at him.   
Lord Dartmore sighed and shifted uncomfortably. “I know you miss her, dear. I do too. And I am sorry. Truly, I am. You’re far too young to lose your mother and I wish there was something I could do to bring her back to us. But there is not, and this is the only thing within my power that I can do to at least give you a chance at happiness. Staying in the city…in the place where it happened would not do you good, my dear.”  
“I understand, father.”   
Robert gave a humorless chuckle and reached out to affectionately pat her cheek. “What a good girl you are. Sometimes I wonder how it is the good Lord came to think I deserved you.”  
There was a few more moments of silence before her father continued. “I do believe you will like Setauket. Your aunt and uncle have a lovely home and you have two cousins, Thomas and Abraham, the latter of whom is only two years older than you.”  
“I look forward to meeting them.” Cecily said.   
“You have met them, my child. It’s just you were too young to remember.”  
“Oh,” Cecily’s little brow had furrowed in concentration as she tried to think back. Robert had chuckled again, clearly amused this time, and the rest of the ride was fairly quiet and uneventful.   
They arrived in Setauket at dusk and went straight to Whitehall. As they pulled up to the grand, white manor, there were nine people waiting for them. Richard and Rebecca Woodhull stood together, closest to the road. Beside them were two young boys whom Cecily presumed were her cousins, though there was no way for her to tell which was which. One of the boys was slightly taller with lighter brown hair than the shorter one. Two other people, clearly servants, stood quietly behind the rest. The only ones Cecily could not place were three other children who appeared to be in the same age group but stood off to the side. The first was a dark haired little girl with big, round eyes. Beside her stood a dark haired little boy whose face promised only mischief. Finally, the third was a comparatively taller blond haired boy, whose blue eyes were reserved as he clasped his hands politely behind his back.   
When the coach came to a stop, the driver opened the door and Lord Dartmore exited first before turning to help his daughter down. Cecily stayed behind her father as they walked up to the Woodhulls. Mrs. Woodhull was the first to greet them.   
“Robert,” she stepped forward and warmly embraced her brother. “I am so terribly sorry for your tragic loss.   
“Thank you, Rebecca.” Lord Dartmore replied and the two broke their embrace. Mr. Woodhull stepped forward then and offered his hand, “my most sincere condolences.”   
“Thank you, Richard.”  
Cecily could detect a shift in her father’s voice, like he was about to display his sorrow, but the change was gone as quickly as it appeared when he cleared his throat and turned his attentions to the two young boys.   
“Ah, Thomas, Abraham, how much you have grown since I last saw you. Have you been behaving yourself? Working hard at your studies?”  
“Yes, sir.” Replied the taller boy. The other merely nodded and Cecily thought he must be very shy.   
“There are my good nephews.” Robert said, patting them each affectionately on the shoulder. “Now, I would like to introduce you to my daughter and your cousin, Cecily.”  
“It’s very nice to meet you. I’m Thomas Woodhull.” Thomas said, extending his hand. Cecily took it and they shook. “Hello, Thomas.” She said.   
“I’m Abraham,” chimed in the shorter boy, though he did not offer his hand in greeting, instead settling on a timid wave.   
“Hello.” She replied.   
“Abraham!” Rebecca Woodhull snapped at her son. “Where are your manners? Shake your cousin’s hand.”  
Embarrassed, Abraham flushed bright red all the way to the tips of his rather large ears before extending his hand. Cecily giggled before taking his hand. Abraham shook it awkwardly. He seemed to do everything awkwardly, Cecily observed.   
“Well, now that that is settled,” started Mrs. Woodhull. “Why don’t we get everyone settled in the house and I will ring Aberdeen to bring in some tea.”  
“That sounds wonderful, dear sister.” Robert replied.   
“Oh, father? Mother?” Thomas chimed.   
“Yes?” Richard Woodhull said, turning back to his son with a questioning expression on his face.   
“Might we stay out here and introduce Cecily to our friends?”   
“I don’t see anything wrong with that,” replied Richard. “Rebecca? Robert? What say you?”  
“It’s fine with me.” Said Mrs. Woodhull.   
“With me as well,” added Lord Dartmore. “So long as you boys promise to look after Cecily,” he looked at Abraham and Thomas. “And,” he turned to Cecily, “as long as you promise to stay with your cousins.”  
All three children nodded in agreement.   
Once the adults had gone inside Whitehall, Thomas turned to Cecily and said, “come on!” He started towards the three other children and gestured for her to follow.   
The girl was the first to step forward to greet them. “Hello,” she held out her hand to Cecily. “I’m Anna Smith. Pleased to make your acquaintance.”  
Cecily smiled and took her hand. “Pleased to meet you, Anna. My name is Cecily Dartmore.”  
It was then that the smaller, dark haired boy bounded forward and right into Cecily’s personal space. He didn’t seem to notice her take a step back and indeed continue to plow forward.  
Then his mouth opened and he started talking. “Yeah, we know. It’s all Mr. and Mrs. Woodhull have been talking about. You’re from York City though? That’s a long ways from here. Do you live in a fancy house? I mean, of course you do, your father being a Lord and all. I bet you have lots of servants too. I-”  
“All right Caleb, that’s enough.” Thomas chimed in, giving the boy, Caleb, a warning look.   
“Yeah, don’t scare our cousin. Give her some space until she gets used to you.” Said Abraham pushing his friend away from her. Cecily looked at him, surprised at his sudden boldness.  
“Until she gets used me? What’s that supposed to mean, Woody?” Caleb shot back.   
“All I’m saying is that you can be bit much before someone really gets to know you like we do.” Abe replied, starting to back away slowly as Caleb started towards him. Both boys were grinning.   
“A bit much?” Caleb continued to advance on Abe.   
“Yeah, a bit much too loud. A bit much too smelly. A bit much too-”  
With a mighty roar Caleb launched himself at Abraham. The latter let out a laugh and took off down the hill, Caleb hot on his heels.   
“Abe!” Anna shrieked and proceeded to set off after the both of them.   
Thomas groaned and turned to Cecily. “I’ll be right back.” Then he too, ran after the group.   
Cecily blinked after them. My, she thought to herself. That was an abrupt departure. It took her a few more moments to realize she wasn’t alone. In fact, she had all but forgotten about the blond-haired boy who had been so quiet through the entire fiasco that was his friends.   
“You get used to it.” He said, coming up to stand beside her and watch the four retreating forms grow smaller and smaller in the distance. “All of their antics. Caleb can get into a great deal of trouble, but he has a good heart.”  
Cecily pouted and crossed her arms with a huff. “Thomas and Abraham were supposed to stay with me.”  
“Well, I’ll stay with you.” Said the boy. Cecily turned to him and he smiled before extending his hand. “I’m Benjamin Tallmadge, but everyone calls me Ben.”  
Cecily smiled back and took his outstretched hand.   
“Well, do you want to go see where they ended up? If we hurry we may be able to catch Caleb beating the snot out of your cousin.”  
Cecily giggled and nodded, clutching Ben’s hand as they started down the hill. True to his word, he had stayed with her the whole day until seeing her safely delivered back to Whitehall.

***

The Setauket laid out before her was quite different now. The peppering of scarlet British coats moving through the streets were like a perversion of her childhood memories. Cecily sobered as the town came nearer, reminding herself that they were at war now and the role she must fulfil.  
The carriage clattered down the main street, passing the stout white building that was Strong’s Tavern; Cecily wondered if Anna was somewhere inside. The carriage continued on its way, eventually drawing to a stop in the drive of White Hall.  
Right on cue, the front door opened and three people came to stand on the step. Pretty, delicate little Mary Woodhull, holding in her arms a blonde toddler; bearded and gray-haired Richard Woodhull, the heaviness of responsibility lying upon a face far older than Cecily remembered; and a small, interesting looking man in the uniform of a British officer.  
The officer strode forward the moment Cecily had descended the steps of the carriage and bowed so low he nearly hit his head upon his knees.  
“Miss Dartmore,” he said, with his hands clasped in front of his heart. “Allow me to welcome you…to Setauket.” He said it with such grandiloquence that Cecily nearly laughed aloud. It was like being welcomed to Buckingham Palace.  
She was glad that she did not need to fight the broad smile that overtook her features. She hoped he mistook it for a smile of greeting. “Thank you-?”  
“Major Hewlett. At your service, miss,” said Major Hewlett. “And of course you already know your uncle and cousin.”  
“Naturally,” Cecily replied.   
“Cecily, you’re looking well,” said Richard, embracing her.  
“As are you, Uncle Richard! It feels an age since I was last here. Cousin Mary! And is this cousin Thomas?” Cecily and Mary shared an awkward embrace, made all the more uncomfortable as they hugged and kissed around the squirming child. Cecily did not know Mary all that well. They had barely spoken during their years growing up, and the last time Cecily had seen Mary she was still engaged to Cecily’s cousin Thomas; his passing had meant Abe had stepped in to marry Mary, a match which broke Anna’s heart.  
“So nice to see you again, Cecily,” Mary said with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.  
“Perhaps we would all like to go inside?” suggested Major Hewlett. “I believe Mary has arranged a light repast to refresh you after your long journey.”  
“Oh but,” Cecily hesitated on the step, looking from Mary to Richard. “Is Abe not here?”  
“He has gone for some business in New York. He will be returning home at some point tomorrow afternoon,” Richard explained.  
Cecily almost missed it: an odd look that passed over Mary’s face at the mention of Abe. Her face tightened, her lips pursing, as if she had heard something that was displeasing to her. She lowered her head to the fussing toddler and Cecily looked away from her, wondering what the expression has meant.  
“He’ll be sorry to have missed your arrival,” said Richard.  
“Yes, very unfortunate for Abraham. I hope you will not mind out company without him?” Major Hewlett was still hovering on the threshold of the house.  
“Of course not. If anything it is better this way, for it gives me an opportunity to visit with the other members of my family.”  
“Excellent!” Fluttering about them graciously, Major Hewlett shepherded the party into the parlor at White Hall.


	11. Sub Divo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Here is the second chappie as promised! And it is a long one. Enjoy! 
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own anything pertaining to TURN: Washington’s Spies. I only lay claim on my OC’s and elements of the story that deviate from the plot of the show.

Sub Divo

Cecily’s first dinner back at Whitehall was not nearly as awkward as she had been anticipating. In all actuality though, the comfortable atmosphere was all due to Major Hewlett’s positively delightful character. Normally, Cecily found British officers barely tolerable (save for Major Andre, of course) given her true alliance, but Hewlett was one of the most amiable people with whom she had ever had the pleasure of conversing. He even managed to ease the fact that Colonel Castor was present by prattling on about trivial things in an extremely jovial manner.   
Even now, as she readied herself for bed, Cecily couldn’t help but picture his sweet face and kind eyes. It was true shame she had to label him an enemy due to the circumstances, but Cecily knew she must in order to preserve the integrity of her mission and subsequently ensure the safety of the cause, even if it meant denying herself a friendship she would most certainly pursue were things not as they were.  
“That Major Hewlett is nice gentlemen, isn’t he?” Mariah said from where she was laying out Cecily’s nightgown. It was as if she could read Cecily’s very thoughts.   
“He is,” she replied thoughtfully.   
“Have you got a plan, Miss Cecily? For when your cousin returns.”  
Cecily sighed. It was that very plan, or rather, lack thereof that had been consuming her mind since she arrived.  
“Well, I’ll have to get Abraham and Anna alone somehow, but that isn’t going to be easy. The town is crawling with Regulars.”  
“Perhaps a walk?” suggested Mariah. “You three are all childhood friends; no one in Setauket would consider it unusual that you were seen together.”  
“That might just work…I would just have to ensure it doesn’t turn into the entire household accompanying us. I mean, could you imagine me trying to have that conversation with Major Hewlett present?”  
Mariah laughed aloud. “Lord…I can see him now…getting all flustered like an adorable little peacock.”  
They both laughed and then Mariah cleared her throat. “Alright, that’s enough fun and games for one night. Let’s get you to bed.”

The hardest part about waiting for Abraham to return was finding an excuse to stay in town all morning. Cecily had stretched out her morning walk for as long as possible before realizing she would be compelled to return to Whitehall for a time. She was unable to slip away again until after lunch, when she convinced Major Hewlett that Mariah needed her help in the shopping for dinner.  
“I do not often cook, my dear major,” Cecily had said while the Major tried repeatedly to convince her to be escorted into town (“the daughter of a peer of the realm should not be left unattended!”). “There is a recipe which is my own invention, and I am most insistent about picking the ingredients myself. No really, thank you but I am sure I will be quite safe. Setauket is a sleepy town.”  
As Mariah and Cecily walked down to the town Mariah muttered in a low voice, “Since when have you ever cooked a meal?”  
Cecily pretended to be affronted. “I’ve cooked for my father! My mud pies are a special favorite of his.”  
Mariah rolled her eyes. “I should have brought a bucket and spade instead of a basket. I suppose it will fall on me to invent this special meal to prepare for you all tonight?”  
“I’m planning on giving it a French name, in honor of Major Andre.”  
Mariah gave a snort of the unladylike variety.  
Once in town they strolled about the market place, taking their time choosing cabbages and potatoes. They had almost reached the point where it was becoming rude to keep squeezing the same onions, when Cecily spotted a cart returning.  
Someone was seated beside him. With a start, Cecily realized that it was Anna. Ah, she thought. That’s why it became so awkward with Mary when Abe’s trip was mentioned. Gathering her rose colored skirts, Cecily started towards Strong Tavern, where Abraham was pulling up to drop Anna off. She would have to snag both of them here in order to discuss the ring in complete privacy.  
Cecily was almost there when a red coat stepped in front of her, blocking her path.  
“Good afternoon, Miss Dartmore,” Gus was grinning down at her.  
“Oh! Lieutenant Grey. What an unexpected pleasure.”  
“I saw you come down from the fancy house. What brings you to the main town…again?”  
Cecily looked at him sharply. Had he noticed her walking this morning? “I’m meeting my cousin, who has just returned from New York. He’s right over there, actually. If you will excuse me?”  
For a moment Gus looked as if he wasn’t going to let her leave so easily. But then he stepped graciously aside. “Of course. Forgive me for holding you up, ma’am. I just thought I would be civil.”  
“Were it any other time I would be happy to stay and chat, but I really must speak to Abraham.” Cecily gave him an apologetic smile and hurried on her way. She reached the tavern just as her cousin was helping Anna down into the mud. Stopping a few feet away Cecily waited for them to notice her.  
Anna saw her first, and Cecily couldn’t help grinning as her friend’s dark eyes -already quite large- widened even further.  
Abe noticed Anna’s stare and looked around.  
“Cecily?” they said in unison, although their tones were slightly different. Both held disbelief but Abraham’s also had a hint of fear laced with irritation.   
“Hello Abe. Anna.”   
It was Anna who broke through her shock first. With a little shriek, she lunged forward and grabbed Cecily in a fierce hug. Cecily clung onto her friend and fought back a sudden onslaught of tears from the wave of emotions that rose up within her.   
“It’s you, it’s really you.” Anna was saying over and over again.  
“It is. I missed you so much, Annie.”   
They pulled apart and Cecily could see tears pooling in her friend’s eyes; and based on her own blurry vision, she suspected that she looked very much the same.   
“Wait…what are you even doing here?” Abraham finally spoke up, coming to stand beside Anna. He was looking at Cecily with an expression that many would say looked as if he wasn’t pleased to see her. She, however, knew her cousin merely didn’t like being caught off guard.   
“Well, it is certainly marvelous to see you as well, Abraham,” she said frostily. When his facial expression still didn’t change, she rolled her eyes. “Oh for heaven’s sakes. You needn’t look as if I am the omen of death and destruction.”  
He shook his head as if to clear it. “Of course, I’m sorry. I just…”  
“Wasn’t expecting me,” Cecily finished for him.   
Abraham nodded.   
“We’re both overjoyed to see you,” said Anna. “Though…I am still curious why you’re here. Especially in times like these.”  
“To everyone else, I wanted to visit. But the true nature of my visit must wait until the three of us are someplace private.”  
Anna and Abraham’s faces mirrored the other’s confusion.  
“Meet me by Argent Springs at six tonight.” Cecily told them firmly. “We must speak about operation seven-one-one,” she added in a low voice, and winked.  
Abraham went pale and Anna’s already large eyes grew so wide she greatly resembled a very alarmed owl. It was Abe who spoke.   
“What?”  
“Six o’clock. Argent Springs.” Cecily repeated. “Now, Abraham, I think I shall catch a ride home with you. Lest anyone grow questioning. Mariah is here as well, so we shall have to collect her.”  
“Uh, right. Of course. Let me…let me help you up.” Abe replied, thankfully catching on that then was not the time.   
“I shall see you anon, Anna,” said Cecily, giving the still wide eyed woman a pointed look as her cousin helped her onto the cart beside him.   
Anna blinked. “Of course. I shall see you…later.” 

At precisely six that evening, Cecily and Abraham made their way to Argent Springs. It was a short walk from White Hall, a little oasis of peace hidden in the woods. Abe said little on the way there, and Cecily couldn’t help but liken his attitude to that of a storm cloud. Were she not accustomed to her cousin’s dour moods she would have thought he was angry with her.  
Anna was waiting for them by the stream, sitting on a log. She got to her feet when they emerged from the trees, a gray cloak wrapped tightly around her narrow shoulders.  
“Well?” Anna wasted absolutely no time getting around to the point. “Would someone like to tell me what on earth is going on?”  
“Aye, I would love to know as well.” Abe replied, folding his arms and turning to look at Cecily, brows raised expectantly. “Especially how you know about seven-one-one.”  
“Well, would you look at that. Our Mr. Culpeper is confused. I must tell seven-two-one.” Cecily said it saucily, enjoying teasing Abe for the moment. She sauntered past to stand by the water’s edge.  
There was an extended pause before Abraham spoke. “You talked to Ben.” It wasn’t a question.   
“And Caleb,” said Cecily. “I’m in the ring. Under the alias of Gideon Argent.” She got straight to the point, not wanting to waste any time. They needed to do this quickly and discreetly. As far as everyone at Whitehall was concerned, she and Abraham went for a short walk to the water while Cecily’s “special recipe” was finishing.   
“When…when did this happen?” Anna asked, sounding breathless.  
“A few days ago.” Cecily replied. “I came here with the intention of informing you two of my joining. It’s all been worked out.”   
With that, Cecily told them the system she, Ben, and Caleb had decided upon. Both Abe and Anna stared at her for a few moments.   
“I’m surprised Ben agreed to your doing this. It’s dangerous, Cecily,” said Anna, pointedly.  
“Caleb helped me convince him. Besides, you’re doing this as well,” Cecily gestured to Anna. “And in all essence, Benjamin really didn’t have a choice. He can’t very well stop me from spying in my own home.”  
Abe was getting more and more flustered “No, but what are you going to do about your…well, your-”   
“My Torie father?” Cecily finished. “We’ve been over this, Abraham. My being a Dartmore is what will keep all suspicions at bay.”  
“What about Major Andre, then?” He countered, his voice holding a challenge. “I had the pleasure of making his acquaintance during my time in York City and he does not strike me as the type who is easily outsmarted.”  
Cecily glared at him. “Leave it to me. I am more than capable of handling one British Major.”  
“Even the Head of British Intelligence?”  
“Yes, even him.” Cecily gave her cousin an even sharper glare.   
“It is a good system, Abe.” Anna said reasonably. “Washington needed someone in New York and this might work well.”  
“Oh, so now you’re siding with her?” Abe whirled on Anna, looking indignant.   
Anna gave him a look. “We’re all on the same side. Besides, you know I will always stand by you.”  
Cecily’s eyes narrowed as she witnessed the two of them exchange a look. Something passed between them which Cecily caught only because she knew both of them so well. It was full of the unspoken emotion between a man and woman in love. Which of course, they were. Cecily reminded herself. But it wasn’t a love that was suppressed, as she knew Anna and Abe’s must have been given both of their marital statuses. It was a love that was rekindled.   
Recently.

With her reason for coming to Setauket completed, Cecily suddenly found herself with little to do. Abe was aloof and made frequent excuses to go down to the farm, leaving Cecily in the company of her Uncle Richard and cousin Mary. She was glad to be home, but it was markedly different from her other visits. In the past the five of them -Ben, Anna, Caleb, Abe, and she- had always been together. Now Abe and Anna could not spend time together, and while Cecily loved her cousin as she loved all her family, the truth was that Abe had grown up to be a bit of an ass.  
Out of desperation for something to do, Cecily went into town in search of Anna. She wanted a chance to catch up with her, of course, but Cecily also wanted to confront her about her relationship with Abraham. Whatever was going on between the two of them could very well threaten the cause and that was not something Cecily would allow.  
Goodness, she thought to herself. When did I turn into Ben?  
Stifling a giggle, Cecily collected herself before stepping into Strong Tavern. The smell of wood smoke, alcohol, and sweat assaulted her nostrils. She wrinkled her nose almost unintentionally.  
A short, round faced man bounced over to her at once.  
“Hallo,” he greeted her in a thick Dutch accent. “You are a new visitor, ya? What can I get for you?”  
“Nothing,” Cecily said quickly, feeling uncomfortable as many pairs of eyes fastened on her. The little man’s face filled with confusion. “I’m actually here to see someone. Can you tell me where Anna Strong is?”  
“Strong is in the back room,” said the man with a faint sneer. “She is vorking. Don’t hold her up too long.”  
“I shall take as long as I like to speak with her,” Cecily snapped, drawing herself up. “Thank you for your help, sir.” Cecily swept past him with her nose in the air. She slammed the door to the back room with just enough force to convey finality.  
It was also enough to startle Anna, who had been washing mugs at a deep sink in the corner. She spun around, her hand on her heart and her eyes wide. “Cecily!” she exclaimed, rushing to hug her. “How did you get back here?”  
“I had words with a curious little man outside. Very bold he was, with me.”  
“That would be Mr. De Young. He is the new owner of the tavern,” Anna made a grand sweeping gesture that took in the back room in all its glory.  
Cecily stared at her. “The new owner…?”  
Anna looked down at her soapy hands. “I had to sell the tavern. Things have been…hard ever since Selah…”  
“I remember you writing to tell me he was arrested,” Cecily said quietly. “Has there been no word of his release?”  
Anna’s mouth twisted in a sardonic smile. “Oh yes, he was to be released. That was the reason for my recent trip to New York. I was going to see him off the prison ship. When I got there I discovered…he didn’t survive his sentence.”  
Cecily’s hand went to her mouth. “Oh Anna,” she said.  
Anna shook her head hard, waving Cecily’s sympathy away. “It’s alright. I’m alright. I-”  
After a moment she took a deep breath, composing herself. “These things happen, I suppose. I still have people to lean on.”  
“I know,” said Cecily. “When were you going to tell me?”  
Anna’s brow furrowed. “Tell you what?”  
“That you and Abraham are having an affair.”  
Faltering, Anna blinked at her. “What?”  
Cecily laughed. “Oh spare me your faux confusion. I know you, Anna. And I know my cousin. Did you truly think I wouldn’t be able to tell? I can see it on both of your faces.”  
Anna looked down sheepishly. “Is it that obvious?”  
“Only…a lot.” Cecily told her. “Though I doubt to anyone but someone who knows you as well as I do.”  
“Are you…are you disappointed?”   
Cecily was thoughtful for a moment. “Well, you know I love you both and want you to be happy but…Anna…this is dangerous... You are both committing adultery.”   
“I am not.” Anna stated.  
Choosing her next words carefully, Cecily spoke slowly. “At least you have…been able to…well, move on in a sense. Not to sound callous.”  
“You don’t have to pretend to be okay with my and Abraham’s relations for the sake of my feelings, Cecily. I can tell you condemn what we are doing.”  
“I admit there is certainly no problem with you engaging in such activities now that…well, you know. But…Anna, my cousin is still married. With a son. I just want you to be careful. For your reputation’s sake.” In that moment, Cecily decided not to mention any risk it might prove to the cause.   
“My reputation?” Anna scoffed. “I have no reputation, Cecily. My husband was a convicted patriot and therefore I myself am outcast. In addition, there were already rumors among the townsfolk that Abraham and I know each other carnally; especially since we were formerly engaged. I see no harm in worsening these rumors by making them true. Besides, I love Abraham and he still loves me. Can you honestly tell me that if this were you and Ben, you would cast him aside for the sake of traditional convention and propriety?”   
Cecily froze and stared at Anna. That was the last thing she had expected to come out of her mouth. “I-what?”  
“Oh please, it is your turn to spare me your denial. I too can see it in your eyes.” Anna said somewhat scornfully.   
“Anna-” Cecily tried again.  
“No.” The other woman held her hand up adamantly. “Stop trying to deny it. You forget that I know you as well, Cecily Dartmore. I know you and I know Ben. Did you honestly think I couldn’t tell what you two felt, what you feel, for each other?”  
Deciding to cease in her futile attempts, Cecily asked, “Am I truly that transparent?”   
Anna smiled at her. “Only…a lot.”  
Cecily smiled back. “I suppose there’s no fooling you. Though I think you misread Benjamin’s feelings, as you call them.”  
“What do you mean?”  
“I mean I don’t believe he shares the same…affections for me that I feel for him.”  
Anna gave a most unladylike snort. “Lord, I’m having flashbacks from when I had doubts about Abraham’s intention when we were sixteen. Cecily, are you being serious right now?”  
“Quite.”  
“Then you are blind. Benjamin loves you. I will honestly be so bold to say that he is in love with you. And has been so, since we were children.”  
Cecily averted her eyes and clasped her hands together tightly, feeling queer. What Anna had just said was something she had dreamed of being true but she also couldn’t help but feel that her friend had still miscalculated. Afraid of getting her hopes up and being terribly disappointed, Cecily effectively squashed the wave of excitement that rose up within her.   
“Benjamin cares for me very deeply, that much I know.” She told Anna. “However, the level of his feelings remain unknown to me.”  
“A love unrequited,” Anna smirked.   
“Doubtful,” was Cecily’s firm reply.   
“Well, you never know.” Said Anna, insistently.   
Cecily smiled. “Perhaps.”

Cecily ended up staying a long time at Strong Tavern. She only left when she realized that she was expected at dinner and would be late. She promised to come and visit again the next day, at a time when Anna would not be busy; the two girls hugged and parted ways. Cecily was just setting off on the trek back to Whitehall when she ran into Mary and Thomas on the outskirts of town.  
“Hello, cousins!” Cecily said pleasantly.  
“Good afternoon, Cecily,” said Mary. “I didn’t realize you were here.”  
“I came to visit-” she caught herself just because mentioning Anna’s name “-a few friends.”  
Mary looked as if she knew exactly whom Cecily had refrained from mentioning. “It is so nice that you were able to come here. Do you know how much longer you’ll be staying?”  
“A week, at the least,” said Cecily. “Until Abraham is able to drive me back up to New York.”  
“We shall miss you when you go.”  
They walked in silence for a bit. Cecily’s discomfort was growing by the second. She did not know why, but she felt as if Mary disliked her strongly. “Are you happy here, Mary?” Cecily asked suddenly. She wasn’t sure what made her say it.  
Mary’s eyes widened in surprise. She was really a pretty woman, small and delicate; quite unlike the darkly hooded eyes and dark hair that made Anna so striking. “Setauket is my home because my family is here,” she answered simply. “So long as my family is safe…I am content.”  
“That is not the same as being happy,” said Cecily.  
Mary smiled unexpectedly. “You remind me of Thomas. The other Thomas, Abraham’s brother.”  
“How so?”  
“He had a way of seeing through people, of noticing what they were truly feeling. Abraham…he’s denser than a tea kettle some days, but deep down I know he cares. You and Thomas on the other hand see more because you look more carefully. It is an interesting trait.”  
Cecily wasn’t quite sure how to respond to that. Abe hid inside himself, and if Cecily was any judge Mary did the same. Perhaps Mary and Abe were unhappy that they had been forced to marry each other, but one couldn’t deny that their personalities worked well together.  
Cecily thought of Anna and unhappiness settled on her.  
Thomas started to chatter and squirm in Mary’s arms. Mary stopped, trying to adjust her grip on her son.  
“Would you like me to carry him?” Cecily offered. When Mary hesitated Cecily insisted. “You could use a rest.”  
Mary passed the child off to Cecily and proceeded to stretch her arms and roll her shoulders. “I swear he gets heavier every day,” she said jovially and they both chuckled.  
Cecily bounced Thomas on her hip as they walked and engaged in some enthusiastic babbling. Mary watched them, occasionally laughing whenever Thomas gave a particularly loud squeal.  
She’s not cold, Cecily realized as they rounded a turn in the drive and White hall came into view. She’s just private, and very protective of her family. Cecily could understand that. What wouldn’t she do for any of her own friends?  
“Oh my!” Mary gasped, stopping dead.  
Cecily almost ran into her. “What is it?”  
In response, Mary pointed at the ground.  
The leaves were stained with dark red liquid. The eyes of the girls moved together, following the trail up the steps and over the threshold; the white paint was smeared in places with blood handprints.  
“Oh my God,” Mary said faintly. She hitched up her dress and ran into the house, Cecily on her hills.  
They could hear a commotion from the drawing room, the voices of several different men speaking loudly as they tried to be heard over each other.  
Cecily and Mary proceeded there and found the room packed with people. Major Hewlett was standing off to the side, his arms folded and his face creased with worry. The rest of the men were standing around a figure stretched out on a table. Abe stood over the figure, grasping his hand tightly.  
“What has happened?” Mary asked.  
The men looked around. Major Hewlett hurried over to them.  
“Richard has been shot,” Major Hewlett informed them in a low voice.  
Mary gasped.  
Cecily felt a chill run through her veins. “Will he survive?”  
Major Hewlett looked doubtful. “It is too soon to tell. The doctor is working to get the bullet out now but…until the wound has been stitched we cannot know for certain. Please, ladies, I must insist that you step out of the room. You do not wish to see this.”  
Neither Cecily nor Mary moved. Their faces were hard as they stared at Richard Woodhull’s prone figure. The blood was everywhere: on the floor, on the table, on the men.  
What a mess, Cecily thought dully. Mariah will have a fit cleaning it all up.  
“Who would want to shoot Uncle Richard?” she said quietly.  
“We are not yet certain,” said Major Hewlett. “But rest assured, we will find the culprit and bring him to justice, madams.”


	12. Oleum Camino

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Geez, I have been horrible with updating this story. I don’t know if anyone is still following it, but I am going to keep going so I hope some of you are! Please leave a review and let me know how you like it! 
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own anything pertaining to TURN: Washington’s Spies. I only lay claim on my OC’s and elements of the story that deviate from the plot of the show.

_ Oleum Camino _

(oil on the fire)

 

            The next day, Cecily went for another walk through the town.  She was still very much in shock from the events of the previous day, and found it difficult to cope with the fact that her uncle had almost been killed.  The memory of him lying there continued to present itself in her mind’s eye: his face a mask of pain, white from loss of blood; his chest soaked with red; the men around him watching with tense expressions, their own hands bloodied.

            Cecily shivered.  Though she had known before her arrival that tensions in Setauket were sure to be high, Cecily hadn’t expected things to be quite this bad.  For one thing, it was abundantly clear to her that something either had happened or was about to happen between Abraham and Captain Simcoe.

            _Simcoe._ Cecily shuddered just thinking about the tall, near albino lobster-back. Not only was he unnerving in looks, but the Captain had something else about him she feared to try and interpret. Certainly, he looked the part of proper British officer but Cecily had a sneaking suspicion that beneath the polished surface, a monster lay in wait, and that the only thing holding it at bay was Major Hewlett’s authority.

            _Or at least,_ she thought nervously. _For as long as Simcoe continued to heed the Major’s authority._ There was another issue in the town that was just waiting to boil over.  Simcoe clearly had a problem submitting to the Major.  Most of the problems with Setauket seemed to lead back to Simcoe in one way or another.  Cecily wondered if she should maybe mention that in her next report to Ben…

            Turning the corner into the town proper, Cecily spied a long line of men leading up to what used to be the church.  At the top of the hill Major Hewlett stood beside a desk, looking over the shoulder of another redcoat who sat with quill and parchment. Cecily felt tiny hairs on the back of her neck rise up when she spied Captain Simcoe standing a few feet away.

It appeared the Major had wasted no time in enacting his plan to confiscate the guns of every citizen until they found who shot her uncle. As man after man turned in their weapons, Cecily’s feeling of dread grew. She could see how many were disgruntled about the whole proceeding and couldn’t help but acknowledge an ominous premonition that this would end in violence.  Cecily watched as her cousin approached Hewlett’s desk and turned in his own musket. For a moment, she wondered why Abraham would bother, considering it had been his own father who was shot. However, these thoughts fled her mind in an instant when she saw the next man to step forward.

She would have recognized his weathered face and tall, broad build anywhere.

It was Ben’s father.

Reverend Nathaniel Tallmadge.

Reverend Tallmadge had a brief conversation with Major Hewlett.  Although she could not hear a word they said, Cecily could tell based on the posture of the two men that it was a tense exchange. Of course, this didn’t surprise her in the least considering the Reverend’s true allegiance and the Major’s position as commandant, in addition to the fact that the British had essentially stolen his church to use as barracks.

As Reverend Tallmadge made his way down the hill towards the town, Cecily went to meet him.

“Reverend!” She called out.

He halted, frowning at her as she approached.  As she drew closer she saw momentary confusion cloud his features, and then they cleared with recognition.  The Reverend’s eyes widened in shock.  “Cecily?  Cecily Dartmore?”

She nodded in confirmation, beaming at him.

The Reverend gazed at her, taking in her features and her high-born frock.  “Look at you!”  He seemed completely awestruck.  “I hardly recognized you.  It has been a long time.”

“Too long,” said Cecily.

“Indeed,” replied the Reverend.  Side by side they started walking the rest of the way down the hill into town.  “What is the nature of your visit?  I trust everything is well at home. That is, your father is well?”

Cecily smiled at the similarity between the Reverend’s inquiry about her father and Ben’s several days before. It seemed the apple truly didn’t fall far from the tree.

“My father is very well,” she assured him.  “This is merely a social visit to see my uncle and cousins. Just the other day I became quite nostalgic and decided it was high time to return to Setauket.”

“And how is your uncle?”  This was asked more carefully.

“He is recovering,” Cecily said honestly.  “He had a fitful night, but the doctor is confident he will heal.”

“That is good to hear,” said Reverend Tallmadge with sincerity.  “Well, it is wonderful to see you, my dear.  Though, I must express my regret that Benjamin could not be here as well. He would have so loved to see you.”

“As I would love to be able to see him.” Cecily felt as if she were choking as she fought a sudden urge to tell the Reverend everything, about how she had just seen his son, that he was alright, how proud Reverend Tallmadge should be of him…

“You two were always so close…more so than the other children it seemed. I remember,” the Reverend broke off with a short laugh. “I remember how you used to sneak away from Whitehall in the middle of the night and show up at our place, looking for Ben. And I can’t even count how often he would do the same.”

Cecily chuckled at the memories his words brought forth. “Goodness that was so long ago…I can hardly believe it.”

“Yes,” mused Reverend Tallmadge, “and so much has changed since then.” Cecily saw his eyes roam up to his church and anger briefly colored his features.

“How have you been, Reverend?” she asked him quietly.  “Truly?”

He sighed and met her eyes again. It was then that Cecily realized just how tired he looked.  “As well off as any of us can be during times such as these,” he replied, sounding bitter.

Cecily averted her gaze, knowing exactly what he meant as a heaviness descended upon the air around them. “It won’t last forever.”

“Yes, but what, I fear, will become of us before it is through?”

“I know little of the war, Reverend, but…” Cecily chose her words carefully. As far as the Reverend knew, she was a patriot but she still had to be careful. “I would say its end result will rule in favor of the just cause.”

She looked him pointedly in the eye and after a moment a ghost of a smile appeared on his face as what she had said sunk in completely.

“I am so glad that we haven’t lost you as well,” he murmured.

Cecily smiled warmly and took the Reverend’s hand. “You should know me better than that, Father. I would never turn my back on the _right._ ”

They spoke of lighter topics for a few more minutes before heading their separate ways; Cecily proceeding on her walk through town and the Reverend joining the crowd inside the tavern.

It was less than ten minutes later when Cecily was on her way back around and heard a commotion coming from the tavern. She turned to see what was going on and was shocked when a host of redcoats came out, towing Reverend Tallmadge behind them. To Cecily’s further horror, it was Captain Simcoe who came out after the Reverend, tying a rope tightly around his wrist. They were…they were taking Reverend Tallmadge prisoner.

_But…why?_ Cecily thought desperately. She had just spoken with him minutes before. On what grounds where they now arresting him?

Not entirely sure what she was going to do, but knowing she had to do _something,_ Cecily gathered her skirt-tails and headed back towards Whitehall. She had to get to Abraham. Somehow, they had fix this.

 

***

 

            Colonel Castor crouched upon the bank of the stream, staring down into the chilly, crystal clear water.  It splashed merrily across the rocks in rivulets of silver; light flashed off the scales of the small fish that occasionally flitted past.

            “The Silver Pond,” said Severine from where he stood behind Castor.  “It’s known only to the locals.”

            “It seems Caliban’s mission was a success.  Be pleased, Severine; in less than a week we’ve managed to root out several traitors and their little gang, using nothing more than a slave and the word of the good Major Andre.”

            “Would that all conspiracies could so easily be uncovered.  The house isn’t far,” Severine added.  “We can make it before nightfall.”

            Castor dipped his fingers into the water and allowed himself a grimly satisfied smile.  They were getting close now.

 

 

 

 


End file.
